#I know nothing about business structures

[s-ound-wave]

Hey question is the live action MDZS generally considered good because uh. Hm. Might have some thoughts contrary to that.

[rogueddie]

Steve has always been confused when people describe family- the structure, what it means to them, any of it. His parents were always distant with him. The babysitters they hired weren't any better.

He's never really considered family important or significant. It's a meaningless word to him. He has his relatives and that's it. He doesn't have any family, not the way people describe it as anyway.

Well. He used to think like that. He thought like that for a while and, for most of that time, he was right. But it very quickly turned around.

It started with Dustin.

The kid was clearly in awe of Steve. Steve had seen it clear as day and found himself desperate to keep him safe. And he did- he worked hard to keep the brat alive, despite repeated efforts to undermine that. And Dustin is so fiercely loyal.

"You die, I die!" Dustin had yelled at him once.

Steve had stared at him, with a sudden cold realization; he loves Dustin. The kid is his family. A weird mix between a little brother and a son. And Dustin clearly felt just as strong for him.

He already knew how ready he was to die for Dustin. He knew now, without a doubt, that nothing would be able to stop him from keeping him safe.

But, he reasoned, one pseudo-kid is enough.

Then Lucas had turned to him one summer. He wanted to get into basketball and knew Steve used to play. It was supposed to be simple practices, some tips and things like that. Nothing special, just advice between friends. Because that's all they were, at the time.

Over the summer, with all the time spent together, they quickly because good friends. And, again, Steve kept telling himself that it's just that. Friends. He's already got a weird pseudo-kid with Dustin.

Watching the game, however, quickly shatters that illusion. As soon as Lucas had stepped onto the court, Steve thought; "thats my kid!"

And Steve thought having one kid was a blessing- a horrible, sarcastic, needy blessing but a blessing none-the-less. Having two is chaotic, but oddly comforting. They're both so different and fill spaces in his heart he hadn't known were empty. They're more family than Steve had ever thought he'd be allowed to have.

But Max had quickly stepping into the picture.

There was always something about her that made Steve feel even more protective. Their first real time spent together being that van, the demodogs, definitely didn't help. He doesn't think he'll ever forget hearing her scream. He doesn't think he's ever moved as fast as he had then.

Seeing Billy getting aggressive with Lucas had only heightened it all. He'd only known Max a few days when he realized that she would never be able to shake him now.

Even when Max tried to push him away, after Billys death, saying the cruelest things she could thing of to get him to back off, he hadn't. He'd simply started to call her parents instead, made sure they knew if they needed anything, if Max ever wanted to vent to him again, he's still there. He's still waiting.

Seeing her in a hospital dead, essentially dead just… it feels like someone has shoved their arm down his throat and pulled his lungs out. Like someone has taken something so vital...

The only comfort, the only person who seems to settle him, is Eddie Munson. But... Eddie isn't part of his little pseudo-family. He wants him to be. He doesn't. It's... confusing. Because he likes Eddie.

Eddie, who lets Steve hold his fingers to his wrist so he can feel his pulse. Eddie, who insists on being moved into a wheelchair so Steve isn't sat in Maxs room alone. Eddie, who doesn't let anyone make Steve go home even though he probably should. Eddie, who looks at Steve like he hasn't failed him or the kids.

One day, Steve asks. He has to, he has to know.

"You're a good dad to them," Eddie explains. He quickly holds up a hand when Steve tries to deny it. "You are. And you aren't the only one who forgets it. You need someone to look out for you too and, since Buckley is too busy hitting on your ex, you're stuck with me."

"I'm not stuck," is all Steve could think to say.

"Hm?"

Steve ducks his head, tries to pull back but Eddie just holds onto his hand tighter. "I'm not... I don't feel stuck. With you."

"Good."

Steve glanced up. Eddie rewarding him with a bright grin, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it. Steve can feel his face heating up. He doesn't feel embarrassed though, hopes the little smirk means that Eddie is taking his blush as encouragement.

[natsessence]

The New Maid

pairing | dom!natasha x sub!reader

summary | After being hired as a maid under Natasha Romanoff's care, your suspicions on her intentions with you soon grow weary. With her request to wear a revealing uniform and her elongated stares, it's not long before you can submit to more than just your attraction for her.

warnings (18+) | smut, dom/sub, dark-ish nat, praise kink, possessiveness, rough sex, fingering, mommy kink, bondage, dirty talk, degradation, spitting, slight spanking, multiple orgasms, oral sex, vibrators, mommy nat (drooling), short skirts, fucks you over her desk tbh

a/n | hi this has already been published on other platforms for a whileeeee but i’m trying to cross upload my work on here cause i wanna write more. this was also my first time writing anything ever (let alone smut) so enjoy :)) any feedback is appreciated!!

word count | 6.3k

warning! (18+): language and sexual content. please refer to tags before reading.

Working under Natasha Romanoff had been a dream. From the very generous pay to the no expenses of living in her lavish mansion, it baffles you how lucky you were to get this job. It started off as a one-time summer thing, a side hustle to earn some extra money before your sophomore year as a college student. But once you learned how well a live-in maid gets paid, you realized there were far too many benefits of pursuing the job for more than just one summer.

Training as a maid was quite simple as well, the owners would usually have articulated plans or certain schedules you follow throughout the day. However, Natasha Romanoff wasn't as easy, she had you by her side practically every second of the day. You're not exactly sure what her job specifically entails, but it must pay well for her to be able to afford such an enormous house. You're glad for the digital map of structure and layout otherwise you'd get lost just looking for the bathroom, which still occurred quite a lot. You do, however, know it has something to do with Stark Industries. When you've had to deliver messages or meals to her grand office, you've overhead her conversations with Tony Stark. Although, it sounded much more like she was talking to a friend than a business call, it was none of your business. She seemed to be a very powerful woman, and you'd hate to cross her, but so far, she's been nothing but more than accommodating.

It's only been a week, but you've wondered if she has other employees. So far, the only people you've seen, besides Natasha, is the chef, pool boy, gardener, and the silent security guards at every gate. You've yet to meet other maids or butlers for that matter but realized Natasha Romanoff is just one person. It'd be quite excessive to have multiple live-in maids. It just felt quite lonely to think about Natasha all alone in such a huge place.

Aside from the very small and revealing, cliche maid outfit she requested you wear the night you arrived, you figured Natasha was just a traditional woman and had no complaints. Especially none with spending almost every hour attending to Natasha Romanoff's needs. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt for her, but in all honesty, who could? She was an undeniably gorgeous woman. The long touches and stares she sent you at times didn't help either. You'd feel her eyes burn into you as you served drinks or prepared her dinner. The outfit she provided failed to hide the blush in your cheeks at every pet name she threw your way. Especially when she would say goodbye and leave a longing touch on your arm or stare at you too long. Every time you were with her things became much harder to focus on. But this job was the highest-paying gig you’ve ever had, so you’d have to suck it up and ignore the little (huge) crush until the end of summer.

Waking up and eyeing the maid uniform hung above your closet, you prepared yourself for your day. You'd assumed the outfit had probably been tailored for the last maid, who may have been (extremely) smaller than you. But with you having to do work around such a colossal property, it required you to move around a lot. So, when you had to practically walk everywhere and bend over every surface to reach the things, you would feel the rise in your skirt and always missed the smirk that rose to Natasha's lips when she was around you.

For the schedule today, you would help her prepare for an on-call business transaction. She asked you have her breakfast served in bed and prepare her outfit and office for her before noon. Simple enough. So, with a final brush of an invisible wrinkle on your top, you hurried along to serve Natasha her meal.

Knocking on the door three times with a tray of caviar buttered croissants, lobster scrambled eggs, and cinnamon brioche french toast in your arms, you opened it to find Natasha plaid in nothing but a black silk robe. Your eyes couldn't help but fall to her chest, where it was barely covered by the thin fabric, finding her cleavage peeking out tauntingly. Her red locks were barely tussled, you'd never be able to guess she had just gotten out of bed.

"Good morning, Ms. Romanoff. Here's your breakfast." You said as you placed the tray onto her bed and above her, your face dangerously close to her chest before you straightened yourself up by her beside.

"Mmm, good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?" She asked, a smile playing at her lips at the sight of you as she faintly rubbed her eyes.

With your hands rested behind your back and a thump in your heartbeat at the use of the pet name, you replied, "Yes, splendidly, miss, thank you. Is breakfast to your liking?"

She groaned at the use of your "Miss and Missus," the first day you arrived she insisted that you use her first name; Natasha. She definitely wished for the use of a different name on your lips, but she couldn’t scare you away just yet. Using her forename never felt polite to you, and you're not sure you would be able handle letting her name roll off your tongue that easily when you could barely manage being in her presence. She gave up soon, but it's not like she didn't enjoy hearing you call her Ms. Romanoff, either. The sound of her name on your lips made her stomach twist with desire.

Your outfit was no mistake, either, she had of course received your profile and knew your measurements, she just couldn't resist seeing you in such a thing. Natasha was a woman that paid attention to detail. Usually, she'd never even have a live-in maid, or a maid at all for that matter. She'd probably just get Tony to whip up some robot to do all her biddings, but she wasn't that shallow. After Steve had teased her about living all alone in such a large home, she figured she just needed a little more human interaction in her home life. Eventually she found a housekeeping service. Intentionally, she had only wanted to find a maid or butler that would come in during the weekdays, but after crossing your profile and seeing your picture. She couldn't help herself. She found you irresistible and absolutely perfect. Even more when you met her, and she fell in love with your innocence, shy blushes, polite manner, and cute smiles. She felt like a teen all over again. 

She knew she had to have you.

She raised her glare to find you obediently awaiting her answer. She smiled to herself, "Yes, sweetheart, it's divine. Tell Jeffrey I send my compliments. Have you eaten, my love?"

The painted pink on your checks only grew stronger with her constant use of pet names. Natasha knew this just as well, she loved seeing you blush and even more when she knew she was the reason why. "No, not yet miss. I was planning on picking up something on the way to prepare your office."

"That's nonsense, Jeffrey prepares an amazing breakfast every day. You've been here a week, honey, make yourself comfortable. It's practically your home, too." Your head dropped slightly, nodding at her reprimanding request.

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” before you could make your exit, she grabbed your wrist and tugged you into her bed, catching you in surprise. "While you're here, you might as well eat, darling."

It sounded more like a command, but you wouldn't deny her either way, knowing you were always hopelessly compliant to her demands. That's what made Natasha so set on you, not only were you a wonderful sight to see, your obedience is what made her sure you were perfect for her, even after only a week. No one had this effect on her as much as you did. She planned to make you hers, she just wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait.

You could barely move a muscle on the large black silk comforter of her bed, awaiting her next command and watching as her hands moved to slice the French toast and raise the fork to your mouth. You eyed her, hesitantly opening your mouth as she fed you.

"Good girl," she hummed satisfied, her eyes following your every move.

You nearly choked at her words, feeling your heart beat harder against your chest and heat rise to your cheeks. After a few more bites and her gazes in between, your heart paced even faster at her next move. "Stay still, honey, you have something righttt there." She said as her hand rose to grasp your face, her thumb moving to your bottom lip as she wiped away the powdered sugar that stained your mouth. She moved the same thumb to her own mouth and licked the residue slowly, glossy green eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't do much but stare starstruck at her lips in front of your face, agonizingly close as she licked them teasingly. The action alone made your stomach shudder sensually and pool heat to your center.

You composed yourself and mumbled a timid, "thank you." Before rising to your feet and picking up her tray to place onto a table to distract yourself from the wetness growing between your legs. "I'll get started on your outfit. Does it need pressing?" You said as you returned to her side. Natasha let out a small chuckle at her effect on you.

"Yes, I believe so. It's hung in my closet; you can do whatever you see fit. I trust your eye for clothing." She acknowledged with wink as she moved to grab her reading glasses and a book from her nightstand.

You nodded, moving to her walk-in closet and setting your eyes on her tailored, black suit. You planned on pressing it in the station of the laundry room before Natasha called out to you just as you were leaving, suit in hand.

"Do it in here, I want to see you." She said, signaling you to use the table that stood within her large bedroom. You couldn't help the thoughts running in your head, but only one remaining prominent; she wants to see you.

You swallowed a gulp and nodded compliantly, turning your back to her as you began pressing her suit. Natasha smiled to herself, enjoying the view in front of her as she occupied her mind of everything she would do once she got her hands on you. It was hard enough restraining herself from pouncing on you any second of the day, but with each movement your skirt rose ever so slightly, giving Natasha a perfect view of your white lace panties and having her wishing she could rip them right off. She was practically drooling at the sight.

Once you were done, you moved to hang it in her closet where it laid before. You returned to her side before clasping your hands behind your back and asking, "I've finished, Ms. Romanoff. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She took a moment to drink you in, standing obediently in front of you in your tight outfit. Your breasts pushing against the fabric and legs covered in white stockings. Before eyeing you up and down, she hummed to herself, "There are lots of things you can do for me, sweetheart. But for now, everything is fine, thank you."

Your eyes widened slightly at her remark, were you hearing things? You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to handle this woman and her seductive teasing. But you blamed it all on your attraction for her, declaring you were just making up things in your head. You nodded and made your way to her grand door, feeling eyes glued to your body as you made your exit.

At noon exactly, you had already finished preparing Natasha's office for her business meeting, you were tidying her bookshelf when you heard the door open. Twisting your head to find her in the same suit you had pressed earlier today. It hugged her body perfectly, but you didn't have time to admire any further as you clasped your hands together to greet her. "Good afternoon, Ms. Romanoff. Your office is ready. Let me know if you need anything." You bowed slightly and continued to the door before she grabbed your arm as you attempted to brush past her. Your bodies were excruciatingly close, you hoped she couldn't hear your heart practically pounding out your chest.

"Stay, dove. You won't be a bother, just continue your work. If you've finished, you're free to leave. But I'd much rather you stay." She blew into your ear, her grip never loosening from your arm as you stood tense at her side.

"I-uh yes, Ms. Romanoff." She beamed at your answer, nodding and reluctantly letting you go. You already missed the feeling of her skin on yours. She continued to make her way behind her desk, sitting in her extravagant chair that made her look ten times more powerful. She began working on her computer, typing away and eyeing you every so often as she continued to work. It wasn't soon before her meeting began, you were thrilled to see her in action. Not knowing exactly what her job was, you were glad to at least gather some intel on what she did for a living. You barely understood the terminology or language they had been using throughout the meeting, you really wished you had taken Russian instead Spanish. You’re not sure if it would’ve mattered anyway because the majority of the time you were distracted by how hot Natasha was, exerting her power and getting fueled up when something didn't go her way, spitting out what you assumed were Russian curse words. You couldn't ignore the same pool of wetness that grew between your legs as you watched her intently. You didn't mind staying her office, sitting patiently in the seat across from her while reading a book you picked from her office library. Natasha most definitely didn't mind either, being able to watch your every move as she worked, she loved every second.

Once her meeting had finished you assumed she would dismiss you, so you rose to your feet as soon as she did. But she only moved to unbutton her blazer, releasing it and letting it drop down her arms with a frustrated sigh. The sight alone was probably the most attractive thing you’ve ever witnessed. Your eyes followed her as she moved to her serving cart and poured herself a glass of scotch, taking a sip with one hand before walking back to her previous spot. She stood across from you, eyeing you amusingly with one hand in her pocket while the other held her drink.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Romanoff?" You questioned hesitantly, noticing her irritation from the meeting and offering aid. At that remark, it seemed any residual anger from the businesswoman had disappeared and been replaced with lust.

"Yes, actually." She said, a smirk tugging at her mouth ever so slightly. You nodded eagerly, urging her to continue. "Come and kneel for me, sweetheart." You stood in shock for a moment, mentally pinching yourself to see if you'd heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

When she gave you a look and reiterated it with a, “You heard me, pretty girl.” It was as if your body was on autopilot as your mind ignored the shock of her words and you nervously moved onto the space in front of her. Dropping to your knees compliantly and awaiting silently for her next direction, looking up to her face, doe-eyed and sweet.

She bit her lip as her hand rose to your face, her fingers sliding underneath your chin as her thumb swiped across your bottom lip once again. However, unlike this morning, her thumb pushed further into your mouth, behind your teeth and reaching your tongue. She took a moment to admire you, legs tucked underneath you as your hands rested in your lap pleasantly with her finger in your mouth. "You look so pretty like this, kotenok."

You squirmed on the floor underneath you, trying to ignore the soaked panties you had stained from being with Natasha all day. Wanting to please her, you wrapped your lips around her thumb, your cheeks hollowing around her while your eyes never left her hungry gaze.

Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head. "Such a good girl. Skazhi mne krasivaya devushka (tell me, pretty girl), what do you want." She requested; her thumb coated in your saliva as she moved it from your mouth to let you answer.

"I- you. I-I want you."

"That's no way to ask, little girl. Where are your manners?"

"Sorry, Ms. Romanoff."

"Wrong. Try again. Tell mommy what you want. Correctly, this time." She released as her grip tightened around your jaw.

"I-I want you, mommy. Please."

She groaned at your words, grinning slyly as her hand continued to caress your face.

She had you right where she wanted you.

"What a good little girl you are. Come sit on mommy's lap, sweetheart." She let out as she dropped to her chair and tapped her right knee twice, thighs spread to leave room for you in between her legs.

Like the obedient girl you were, you rose to your feet, taking only a few steps towards the woman in front of you with insatiable hunger. As you took your place on her lap, your skirt flew up, leaving nothing but your bare bottom in lace panties on Natasha's thigh. Her hand immediately moved to your thigh, rubbing slowly as it made its way up and down. You whimpered in frustration, wanting to feel her hands all over your body. Eventually she reached your clothed heat, stroking painfully slow over your drenched panties. You tried not to squirm under her touch, wanting to push yourself further onto her fingers but her hand firmly wrapped around your waist kept you in place.

She noticed your impatience, chuckling softly before swiping her fingers harder against your core. You moaned at the feeling, pushing your hip into her hand, desperate for her touch. 

"Greedy slut, aren't you?" You couldn't answer, your mind only focusing on grinding your hips against her now spread-out palm.

But soon you felt a stinging slap against your thigh, dangerously close to your heat, you jumped in surprise and whined at the loss of her hand against you. "Answer me."

"Yes, mommy, only for you. Please, I want you so bad."

You didn't have time to concentrate or dwell on the loss as she began stroking your bare thigh again, spreading your legs firmly and pushing her fingers back to rub circles against your cunt. Her mouth soon attached itself to your ear as your mouth was left open at the sensation, letting out labored breaths.

She slid her tongue around your lobe and into your ear, "You have no idea what you do to me, kotenok. Walking around in that little outfit, I've wanted to fuck you senseless since the day you walked in here."

Your legs closed in reflex, feeling the undeniable drench between your legs. But Natasha only growled against your ear, moving her leg to wrap around your ankle, keeping your bottom strapped against her.

"Is that what you want, pretty girl. You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk?" She teased across your cheek, peppering wet kisses along your jaw and to your lips, leaving her centimeters away from your mouth. You knew better to answer this time, closing your eyes from sensation of her palm rubbing against you.

"Yes, mommy. I want you inside of me, please, I need you so bad." You whined against her and moaned once she moved your panties to the side and slid her fingers through your juices.

"Oh baby, you're soaked. My good little girl, all wet for me, huh." She continued, looking up to your flustered face as you writhed on top of her.

Before continuing her movements, she paused, "Say red if you want to stop, sweetheart, I won't be mad. Yellow if you want to slow down and green for go. Understood?"

You nodded before realizing she wanted a verbal response. "Yes, mommy."

"Good, printsessa," she smiled before shoving her fingers into your heat, muffling your moan with her mouth and she connected your lips into a heated kiss.

You could barely focus on kissing her back with the way her fingers were deepening inside you. You so desperately wanted to keep up, and you loved the feeling of her plush red lips on yours. The way she tasted only made you crave more; cherry and scotch, it was as addicting as it was sexy. She moved with incredible expertise, knowing how to get you breathless with a lick of her tongue against yours. You could feel her smirk against your mouth when you struggled to keep up with her hungry kisses, instead letting out breathy moans into her mouth. Natasha continued exploring your mouth, growing wetter at the sight of the strings of your mixed saliva connecting your mouths.

She continued her thrusts, adding another finger as her thumb rubbed against your clit, only causing more sounds to escape your mouth. Just as you felt yourself clench around her fingers and tighten your fists as your hips rode against her, she pulled them out, eliciting another whine at the loss. Releasing her hand drenched in your juices and sliding it into your mouth. You were forced to open wide as she commanded.

"Shut up and suck," you did exactly that, running your tongue through her manicured digits and tasting yourself around her. You loved the way her eyes were devouring you, as if she was about to rip you apart on the spot.

She moved to grab your wrist, moving your hand to let you feel her packing through the crotch of her pants as you began stroking her through the fabric. Your thighs clenching at the thought of how big it was. "You want my cock, printsessa, huh? Wanna get it all nice and wet for your pussy?"

You didn't waste a second to respond, desperately letting out a "Yes, mommy, please."

She grinned at your eagerness, motioning her head to the floor in front of her again and saying, "On your knees, krasivaya devushka." You obeyed, dropping to the carpet beneath you once again and placing your hands neatly flat onto your lap.

She watched you like a hawk before rising to her feet, towering over you before unbuckling her belt in front of your face. She pulled the belt from its loops and circled to your back, pulling your arms from in front of you and locking them together in her belt against your back. The position only brought your breasts up further against your tight outfit, displaying them in front of your body. Natasha moved in front of you once again, enjoying the sight but still insatiably wanting more.

"Color, my love."

"Green, mommy."

She smiled before kissing your cheek. After a pause she moved her hand to grab her drink once again, taking a sip before deliberately extending her arm out and pouring it into your cleavage, feeling the cold liquid roll through your body and onto your stomach as your mouth drew out a gasp.

"Oh my, I'm so clumsy, dove. Let mommy help you with that." Natasha feigned with faux innocence as she bent her body down to your level, eyeing your shiny chest and immediately ripping apart the blouse effortlessly with both of her hands. It left you in your matching white lace bra, presenting your breasts perfectly into Natasha's view. She groaned, moving her two hands to grope them above the fabric. You could only watch, immobile with your hands tied behind your back as she unclipped your bra and let it fall down your arms. Your heart raced against your chest as she moved to the drink once again, dropping the cold liquid all over your bare chest as inhaled sharply, feeling the cold sensation run down your body. Natasha only stared further, wanting this picture of you to last in her mind forever. She opted for the next best thing, reaching for her phone on the desk and angling it to get you into view. She snapped a photo of you, knowing she would be using it for later purposes and hoped she would have enough for an album soon, she would make sure of it. She couldn't help herself and soon enough, began sliding her tongue up against your stomach and around your breasts, palming the opposite one and pinching around your nipples. She sucked each of them, humming at the taste of scotch tainting your skin as your arousal grew as you watched her worship you.

After enough teasing, she moved to drop her pants in front of you, revealing the large red strap on teasing your face. She shoved two fingers into your mouth again, coating them in your saliva before she gripped your cheeks open and tilted your face up to her. "Swallow." She directed as she leaned down to drop a ball of her saliva into your mouth before kissing it. She hummed against your face and continued to stand up straight in front of you, pushing the strap into your face.

"Good girl, and you know what good girls get?"

You shook your head, awaiting her response before she continued and began playing with your nipples, "they get to suck on Mommy's cock, you want that, baby, don't you?"

"Yes, mommy, please." You whimpered from underneath her, fighting the urge to rub your heat against the floor.

She pinched down extra hard on your breasts, tugging at the tip and taking the opportunity to shove herself down your throat when you opened it to moan. You internally thanked yourself for your lack of a gag reflex, adjusting to her size quickly as you let her continue. She picked up her pace, both her hands traveling to tug onto your hair and keep you firmly thrusting back and forth on her appendage. Your cheeks hollowed against the toy, swallowing whole to please her.

"That's right, baby, sucking my cock like a good slut. You're such a pretty girl, aren't you, my pretty little girl." Natasha moaned out between her rough thrusts.

Soon she released you, a string of your saliva connecting to tip of her cock and tears brimming your eyes when she pulled your hair back to move your mouth off of her. "What a mess you are. I bet that pussy's just as much of a mess, huh? Why don't we check. Stand up, slut."

You gathered your breath and brought yourself to feet, struggling slightly as your thighs rubbed together and your hands still remained tied behind your back. Natasha smirked at your appearance, chest open at her mercy and plaid in a skirt with suspenders connected to your white stockings.

You were soaked, you knew it, too. You could feel your wetness roll down your thigh and feel it press against your panties. You'd do anything to relieve yourself, but you were completely at Natasha's will.

"Oh, I'll never get tired of this. Maybe I'll make you walk around the house like this. Put on some panties with a vibrator in it and watch you tremble while you do your chores. You'd like that wouldn't you, pretty girl." She teased, her hands caressing your backside before delivering a smack to your ass. You jumped in surprise, squealing before answering her. "Mmph! Mhm! Anything to please you, mommy."

She groaned into your ear, feeling her body ghost over your back as her hands massaged your bottom. After moving to face you once again, her hands never resisting the chance to grope your boobs, she moved her hand down your core. Rubbing the fabric against your cunt as her palm made contact with your clit, making you jerk forward and whimper in pleasure. She released her hand from you, removing your skirt and moving to slide her hand down your stomach and to the top of your panties. She followed the pattern of the lace before hooking her fingers and dropping them to the floor. You stepped out of them and felt yourself being pushed down onto the desk, bending over and wondering when she had cleared it for you. You turned your head to the side, looking down and noticing the mess of papers on the floor from cleaning off her desk. You wondered if you would still be responsible for cleaning it.

Her nails pressed into the curve of your back, pushing you down against the cold wooden desk. Her hands found her way back to your bare bottom, sliding down to smack it once again. You screamed in surprise, knowing it had been harder than the last.

"If you can't keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed, I'm gonna have to do something about it." She vocalized above you.

"I'm sorry, mommy, I'll be good."

"You will be, princess. Now, look at what we have here, such a pretty little pussy. Can't wait to bury myself inside you, baby. Gonna fuck you like the whore you are." Natasha groaned at the thought, enjoying the whimpering mess you were bent over her desk. She dropped to her knees behind you, running her tongue up your thigh and following the trail of your slick until she reached the spot you needed most.

You let out a sob in relief, moving back to grind against her tongue and the way it pressed flat against your heat. She continued her movements, teasing your folds before shoving her tongue inside of you. Once she began to play with your clit, you screamed in pleasure, but soon whined once she retracted her mouth. It wasn't soon before she appeared in front of your eyes with your white lace panties in hand.

"I told you to be quiet, slut. Now mommy's gonna have to do something about that." She scolded before rolling your drenched panties into a ball and into your mouth, gagging you. She caressed your face gently as she smiled down at you, brushing loose strands of hair from your face before moving behind you once again. She pulled your hair, lifting your body flush against hers. "Now, kroshka, I'm gonna play with your pretty little pussy and if you can be a good girl, I'll let you come. But if you can't keep those panties in your mouth, I'll be punishing you tonight. Color."

"Green." You let out, muffled by the fabric occupying your mouth. She flipped your body to face her, using her muscled arms to lift your hips onto her desk and manhandling you. She forced your legs apart, letting cool air hit your bare bottom and drop your wetness onto her desk. Natasha loved the sight of your cunt glistening in front of her. You placed your palms on the surface behind you to sturdy yourself, but once your eyes widened at the vibrator Natasha had in her hand, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself together. She laughed at your reaction, moving her hands to your breasts again and stroking over your nipples.

Catching you off guard, she immediately pressed the vibrator down to your core, buzzing against you and having you scream in pleasure against your gag. She immediately began rubbing it through your folds, teasing you and ignoring the only spot you truly desired. You wailed against her, pushing yourself further onto the machine before she slapped your thigh.

"Naughty girl, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you. Stay still, or your wrists won't be the only thing that's tied." She ordered, pressing further against your cunt and clutching at your nipples. 

She took mercy on you, moving the vibrator onto your clit and enjoying your reaction as you moaned in pleasure on top of her. Your head was thrown back, and your eyes rolled to back of your head once she began fucking you with two fingers. You could hear the obscene noises coming from your core as she thrusted into you, even louder were the groans and whimpers escaping your throat, only to be muffled by the gag.

"You hear that? You're so wet against my fingers, can't imagine how you're gonna sound taking my cock, slut." She continued to curl her fingers against you, moving the vibrator against your clit painfully. You could feel yourself reaching the edge, bucking your hips into her movements and whining against the device.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" You nodded frantically above her, practically riding her fingers as the sensation on your heat grew stronger.

"Cum all over my fingers. Now." She demanded, adding a third finger. You did just that, biting down on your gag before becoming a whining mess. Covered in your own slick as the sensation washed over you while Natasha kept her pace. Your thighs were trembling on top of the desk when you let out a final cry, collapsing against her.

She halted her movements and grazed her hand over your face as she pulled your panties out of your mouth. Sweat was trembling down your body as she began kissing your face. You struggled to keep your eyes open to watch her suck each of the fingers she had fucked you with. You could taste yourself on her tongue as she connected your mouths, dominating you in record time. Your breath hitched when her hands and lips began to roam all over your body. Tweaking with your nipples in one hand while she sucked the other.

Soon the toy between her legs found its way between your folds, sliding itself against your sensitive cunt and becoming coated in your cum. It wasn't long before you were dripping again, despite barely coming down from your orgasm.

"Is my printsessa ready for my cock?" She taunted, continuing to grind her hips into your center. You gasped as the toy slid across your clit, attempting to thrash away from the feeling but Natasha's hand on your leg kept you still as she released a dark chuckle.

You gathered your thoughts, responding to her before you received punishment. "Yes, mommy. Please."

"Aw, my pretty girl can do better than that. Beg me, slut."

You writhed on top of her, letting the moans fall effortlessly from your throat as you rolled your hips on her length. Natasha noticed you getting lost in enjoyment before she moved her cock away from you and slapped it against your cunt. "Answer me."

You struggled to get your words out, growing frustrated you shouted, "P-Please, fuck me! Need you inside of me, I'll be a good girl. Please just fuck me, mommy! Use me!"

She grinned, beaming at your desperation and wasted no time before lining her tip and inserting herself into your core. The moan you let out was the loudest yet, your head was thrown back in pleasure and mouth left open as she plunged herself further into you.

"Oh my- fuck. Nat, you're so big."

Her head snapped up to your face, you hadn't noticed your slip-up but once she gave you no warning and slammed her entire length into your pussy, you could only scream in satisfaction. Natasha roughly picked your body up from the desk, twisting you and shoving your head down to bend over once again. Her cock never escaping your pussy, she began relentlessly thrusting into you, her hands reaching in front of her to grab your hair.

"That's not my name, naughty girl." She scowled, her hand coming down to smack your bottom repeatedly while you flailed beneath her.

"S-sorry, mommy! Please, harder, you feel so good." You cried between her thrusts. You didn't think it was possible for Natasha to quicken her pace, but she began pushing in and out of you rapidly, the only sounds filling the room were her grunts, the embarrassing squelch of your pussy, and sound of her skin flapping against yours when she bottomed out at each thrust.

"Such a dirty girl, taking mommy's cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it, baby." She moaned on top of you, pulling your hair to bring your back flush against her body. Her hand moved to your bare stomach, gliding to clutch your breasts and pull at your nipples. You let your head fall back onto her shoulder, you could feel your knees trembling from beneath you. If it weren't for Natasha's sharp thrusts and hands holding your body, you're not sure you would be able to stand on your own.

Once her fingers found its way to your sensitive clit you couldn't take it anymore, between her rubbing circles on your clit and her relentless force on your cunt you felt yourself helplessly clenching and squirming around the toy.

"P-Please, mommy, can I c-come." You cried, your voice wavering between her movements.

"Come, baby, be a good girl for mommy." Natasha began focusing on pleasuring you, playing with your clit and reaching to tug on your nipples while she fucked you into your orgasm. Her hips continued ramming into you as your rode out your high, letting out noises you didn't know you were capable of making and screaming her name in a loud moan.

You slumped against her body, breathless and covered in cum, sweat, and alcohol. You turned your head to face Natasha tirelessly, she smiled against you and placed a kiss to your lips.

"My good little girl, you did so well, detka." You hummed at her praise, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips caressing your body while her strap was still buried inside you.

"Come on, baby, let's get you cleaned up."

[plutoslvr]

People calling Kevin toxic for andriel are we reading the same series???

Did you miss Kevin taking care of Andrews's meds which is such a trusting thing on Andrew's behalf because he's gone his life doing things alone but now Kevin's offered to help and not interfere in Andrews's life and business and RESPECTING HIS BOUNDARIES???

Did you miss Kevin threatening Neil to tell him his actual condition and NOT the "I'm fine" bullshit he's constantly saying.

Did you miss Kevin being the FIRST person to see something in Andrew? Even before Neil did, not his cousin, not his brother not the system but Kevin fucking Day saw something in him and promised to give him something to structure his life around??? Kevin believed in him whether on not Andrew was on his meds.

Did you miss Kevin telling Neil to run away when he finds out his identity because he doesn't want Neil to be caught back up with the Moriyama's. It's too late for Kevin to escape, he's been under the limelight for years now and Exy is the only thing he'd been brought up to know. But he wanted Neil to run even if it meant the Foxes couldn't qualify to play he was willing to give up the thing cared most about to keep Neil safe.

"The day Kevin stops playing is the day he dies. He has nothing else. He wasn't raised to have anything else. Do you understand? We cannot lose to the Ravens this year. Kevin won't survive it." KEVIN WAS WILLING TO GIVE THAT UP FOR NEILS SAFETY.

Did you miss how Kevin purposefully feigned disinterest in Andrew when he was with the Raven's because he didn't want to drag Andrew into the nest??

Did you miss Kevin fucking Day grabbing Riko Moriyama's arm- his LITERAL abuser to stop him from hurting Neil?? Did you miss how Riko immediately hit Kevin back but it didn't stop Kevin from trying.

HELL I COULDN GO ON AND ON DO NOT FUCKING TRY THIS WITH ME Kevin saved Andrew and Neil just as much as they saved him goodnight

[throwaway-yandere]

I wont give up writing for anything, even if that means I have to leave the Akademiya.

Creative Differences (Yandere!Tighnari/Reader)

A/n: compadre I lowkey got scared reading this message cause I was procrastinating on reviewing college algebra by writing a fic. It was kinda ominous haha! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠). Anyways, I'm not sure if this is a writing prompt or who it's about, but here's a short (prolly ooc) yan!Tighnari fic. Enjoy!

gn!reader

CW: yandere!Tighnari, toxic relationship

—---

You're breaking up with your boyfriend of two years this afternoon.

Yes, you dated him despite knowing his flaws. You went out with him, knowing that he can be a killjoy and a bit condescending. And yes, you admit, that at first, you thought it was cute how Tighnari acts more abrasive around you when he is easily cordial around others. That you thought you were special since he doesn't act this falsely repulsed towards anyone else. That his facade will progressively melt soon as your relationship progresses.

Spoilers: it didn't. Somehow, instead of controlling his sharp tongue, you made it uncontrollably worse.

You were considerate and thought it was just stress. Being an underappreciated forest watcher would bound him to a few troubles on its own and the Akademiya's insistence on bringing him back is another factor. He had no need for the Sages' favors while they remained deaf when receiving his declinations. You chucked his behavior as a result of stress, and since he "trusts you more than anyone". Tighnari feels freer when he's with you compared to his associates. He openly expressed his frustrations because he's aware that you won't leave him, much like family.

But he smiles so much softer when he’s with Collei…

You know it's bad, really. To get jealous of his poor student as a final straw. It doesn't look good for your case, but one night you accidentally eavesdropped on their conversation and noticed how Tighnari's ears seem to straighten up whenever Collei calls him "master."

He never has time for you. He's always so busy, it's like he was avoiding you on purpose.

But you're mature and didn't act on those unpleasant emotions. You think of Collei as a little sister, and you can't imagine something bad happening to her. So, to lighten your mood, you jokingly called Tighnari "master" like the forest rangers.

And not so jokingly did he grab your wrist iron tight and tell you that if you say that again, he'd have you locked up in a cage like a filthy boar.

The remainder of the evening featured Tighnari avoiding eye contact. He never offers you an apology and acts as though he hadn't uttered anything horrible that left you feeling groggy the next day.

But being on the receiving end of his anger hurts. Especially when you know you've done nothing to deserve it, at least, it's nothing to you. 

He vehemently opposed your enthusiasm for penning romantic light novels for grounds the fox refused to divulge. Instead of being proud that your novel "The Knight Tames the Villainess" beat Zhenyu's notorious "Legend of Sword"' for a week, Tighnari rained on your parade by insulting your readers and the characters of the book.

The fox said that the love interest behaves like Cyno and that he's not a hero worthy of wasting anyone's time. That if you're going to write a male love interest, he should've been more snappier and honest with the female lead's flaws instead of being stoic. 

"He's done nothing to help her improve." He rolled his eyes. "The black kitsune antagonist had more chemistry with the female lead than him. That white-haired bodyguard is a joke of a protagonist. Your readers have no taste."

You didn't question why he was affected and offended by this. Tighnari was certain that if you did read between the lines, you would've rooted out the cause of the problem immediately.

He picked your characters apart while he engaged in a Socratic-like method of patronizing you. 

None of his complaints, aside from his assertion that your novel lacked "logical structure," were verifiably true. Although the male character is silent and unfunny, he has done everything in his power to help his loved one become happier in all areas of her life. In addition, it is absurd that he believes the traumatizing antagonist was a greater role model than the boy who fell in love with the female lead.

You were surprised. From the years you've spent together, not once did he talk about your hobbies with you– and you wished he never did. 

"Stop wasting time and focus on your thesis. How else are you going to pass the board if you're too busy behaving like a big lummox? I'm saying this because I care about you, (Y/n). If you need extra cash just say so. You don't have to write for those people, they're all just–"

Tighnari didn't stop there. You loathe recalling the rest of what he said.

You wouldn't mind his words if he attacked your skills in writing, but to call your readers illiterate and dimwitted spinsters with no taste in men was enough to unseal everything you had bottled up for the past 2 years.

The entire argument was a blur. There were screamings and loud thuds, but what stood out most from your memories was the bold declaration you uttered by the end of it all.

"I won't give up writing for anything," you spat. "Even if it means I have to leave the Akademiya– if it means I have to leave you."

Normally, debates with him are futile, but at least there was one major key takeaway from this exchange.

You had an epiphany. There was never a need on your end to be with Tighnari. That your writing was more than an escape– it was a clear cry for help and a reflection of your needs and desires. And you were hoping for someone to depend on and a chance to break free from the "villain" in your life.

It had been days since that fight, and you calmed down. With the way things are going, this conversation should be a breeze on your end. 

"(Y/n), you wanted to see me?"

Speak of the devil.

You put your cup of coffee down.

"Yes, please close the door. This is pretty important."

He locked the door.

Tighnari looked indifferent– as usual– and flopped his tail down the nearest chair. His ears were twitching slightly as he fixed his hair, puffing it to add more volume.

You nodded, fishing a paper out of your pocket. Tighnari raised an eyebrow.

Since he was so keen on reminding you that you are awful at holding academic presentations without a little "cheat card", you decided that you'll bring one this time too. Albeit, it only had the words "FUCK YOU" written eloquently, it's enough to make you remember the many woeful sorrows you want to communicate. You don't care that it's petty. Even though you’ll be civil about the break-up, a little card wouldn’t hurt. At least when the afternoon's finished you can joke about it at parties.

Tighnari would laugh at your face after you say your piece. He's a natural-born sophist– some might call his wisdom false for it, but his persuasion is influential. Hence, you fully expect him to gaslight you midway. The fennec fox would remark that your performance was funnier than any material the general Mahamatra came up with. But you don't care. 

There's an exciting world out there once this is settled. You can't wait to be single and get nervous around anyone you find remotely attractive.

"So? Get on with it, (Y/n)." He tapped his fingers on the table. You almost forgot he doesn't like it when people get too distracted. "I still have to plan the next cleansing ritual."

"Course you do." You let out a snarky retort without realizing it. "But please bear with it, this shouldn't take long."

He hummed curtly.

You cleared your throat again, trembling anxiety making its way up your fingers.

"Tighnari, let's have a clean break up."

"Sure."

"Oh." You nervously smiled. "Thank you, I apprec–"

Tighnari hurriedly sprang from his chair and slammed both hands down. His eyes widened as your thoughts took a moment to sink in. He laughed without mirth.

"... Wait, come again?"

He squeezed his nose and closed his eyes while taking a breath. The slight grin on Tighnari's face proved your assumption was accurate. He was laughing at you.

"What are you trying to play here?" 

Of course, it'd be too easy if he just agreed with you.

"Whatever it is that you're trying, quit it. If you want to go on dates then sure. We could visit Liyue Harbor this Saturday–"

"No. I'm being serious here." You breathed shakily in a mediocre attempt to steel your nerves. "I want to break up, Tighnari."

He paused, his stone-cold gaze unbreaking.

"Why?"

"Because we're both unhappy." 

His ears twitched and drooped down slightly. "We are?... You're unhappy?"

"Yes." You said it almost like a question, so you repeated it to make things clear. "Yes, I am. And so are you."

Tighnari slowly shook his head. 

"No, no I don't. I love being with you, (Y/n)."

You sucked air between your teeth. Your heart started to pound loudly as your hand clenched a handful of your shirt tightly. It's unfair. He can't say that after every verbal abuse he subjected you to hear. 

"Tighn–"

"I know what this is about. You're having an affair with Cyno, right?" He snarled.

Huh?

This time, it was your turn to be stunned and simultaneously enraged. You glared daggers at him while your closed hand hit the table.

"Excuse me?!"

You both went silent. The fox heard your heavy breathing and knows you're too baffled to speak.

"I can't believe this." Tighnari sneered, but his voice was raspy and strained from disbelief. His tearfully frustrated eyes contorted as he forced words out of his mouth. He raised his hands abruptly before languidly motioning his thoughts in the air.

"I can't believe you didn't even realize you're in love with him. I-I was willing to turn a blind eye if you were fucking him behind my back. That’s how much I love you. I thought turning a blind eye would stop you from stirring up this– this rebellion– You're a fox's mate– my mate!" 

He shook, mad.

"And I can't and won't find another. Damn it (Y/n)– you know this!"

"What made you think I'm having an affair with Cyno?!" You balled your fists, and your knuckles paled. 

One more absurd comment and you'd be convinced that he's under the influence of hallucinogens. It wouldn't be a huge stretch. What kind of boyfriend would let someone else bed their lover? An incompetent one maybe– if it were a healthy polygamous relationship and everyone consented then you wouldn't bat an eye, but it isn't. 

You're not some debauched "doll" shared against their will.

"I've never cheated on you!" You screamed.

"From the way I see it, your patrols with him should be considered an emotional affair." Tighnari deadpanned. "Playing with his hood, pulling his arm, laughing at his unfunny jokes– you're practically a whore for him."

Holy shit.

"You're insane." 

That was the only response you could say.

So painfully, you wanted to nitpick the flaws from his argument. How satisfied you would've been if you pointed out that's how humor is subjective and that's how platonic relationships work. Even though you wanted to make him feel tiny with your stream of unwarranted reprimands, you don't want to be like him.

Let his delusions simmer and stir– you have nothing to do with him anymore.

"You know what, we both don't need this talk. We're done, Tighnari."

You walked past him and reached for the doorknob. 

It rattled, however, it did not open. 

You tried again, frantically in an attempt to loosen the locks. This was the worst moment for a door to jam. You slouched forward and pulled harder. There's no way he won't use this moment as a way to drop more inane comments. You heard a chair being dragged out behind you.

"It's no use. I locked it."

"Then open this fucking door."

"Why should I?"

You shivered, not noticing Tighnari right behind you. His lips hovered above your ear.

The reputable forest watcher trusted by travelers and citizens alike pressed a doused handkerchief against your nose. 

Panic overrode your rationality when you realized what you were inhaling, and stupidly you gasped. It smelled faintly made out of dendro energy and plants created by Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. You and Haypasia, whose major research concentrated on the Irminsul, are more than familiar with its aroma.

It's the incense. 

Normally, it's taken for the sake of connecting with the Irminsul, but his motivations make you dread why it's being utilized. Continuous exposure increases the susceptibility of researchers to its effects, and in this context, Tighnari is exploiting that for...

You jumped and clawed his arm, but your vision wavered like it would in the desert. His arm encircled your waist, and he was, unfortunately, stronger than you. The card you were holding fell. Tighnari's ears perked up as he sensed your strength waning.

He caught you right on time. Consciousness evaded you, and you weakly leaned on his chest. 

Tighnari smiled.

He smiled so much softer than when he talked to Collei– and everyone else in Teyvat.

"Why should I open the door, when I have you right where I want you?"

[copperbadge]

Watching Twitter implode, as an outsider who has hated Twitter for an extremely long time, is absolutely fascinating. I had a twitter account, now deleted, which I checked about once a month and posted to every few years, usually in a vain attempt to acclimate myself to a system I felt was hostile to any method of communication I was capable of. For about a year now even checking my notifications has been pointless, since I was quoted in a tweet by some corporate account that the spambots got hold of; literally all I saw in my notifications for a very long time was ads for various things attached to my name, retweeting that fucking train quote.  

I understand the importance of twitter particularly in uplifting marginalized voices and chronicling major historical events in first-person witness accounts; I know people personally whose small businesses are absolutely fucked because they depended on twitter for almost all their PR and a vast portion of their sales, and that truly sucks. It’s easy to glibly say “and nothing of value was lost” but a lot of value is being lost. 

But I also just hated everything about trying to use twitter. I can understand its importance and still hate it. I also don’t like the Mountain Goats even though they are vitally important to the emotional stability of like, half the people I know. 

The upshot of this is that I eventually had only a dim understanding of the way twitter culture evolved, since I wouldn’t go near it with protective gear on. So I was absolutely dumbfounded to read articles about the Verification badge being put up for sale and to see people saying, “Well, if Twitter’s no longer trustworthy, why be there?”

It blew my mind to realize that in introducing verification in the first place, Twitter had given its entire userbase explicit permission to abandon critical thought when they saw that alluring blue bird. Because twitter verified people, it seems a huge number of users thought they didn’t need to question anything on the site and, because of the way most social media works, the site also quickly became a series of personal filter bubbles. 

It makes the last few years make sense, in a weird way -- it’s not just that a massive chunk of culture abandoned critical thought, it’s that they were told that was okay to do, every day, every time their eyes hit the site. And Twitter is structured to offer diminishing returns on a hard dopamine hit, so a lot of people were on it a lot. I’m not throwing stones -- I’m physiologically constantly a quart low on dopamine, so I’m on Tumblr for much the same reason. And I’m not saying that anyone who is Chronically On Twitter has no critical thinking skills. But I am saying that it appears the vast majority of people who let their online critical thinking skills go slack did so because Twitter said it was okay. Twitter said, we’ll do the questioning for you. 

(Watching Twitter implode as someone familiar with the psychology of D/s relationships is....also fascinating.) 

The coverage of the Lilly tweet in particular is interesting in relation to this because it doesn’t seem like anyone is asking who made the tweet. Perhaps there’s no way to find out, but I don’t even see threats or attempts. Eli Lilly is suing Twitter and doesn’t seem even inclined to ask about the human who did it; nobody at Twitter, to my knowledge, has vowed to find and punish the perpetrator, which is hilarious given what Musk clearly wants to do to the people mocking him personally. No major media outlets seem interested in reporting on people discussing the question, let alone asking the question themselves, which indicates to me that nobody’s gone looking. If people are asking, they are not asking loudly or visibly. 

And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want us to find the person who tanked Eli Lilly stocks en route to reopening the discussion about price-gouging in the healthcare field. I wish there was a way to buy them a beer and/or a vial of insulin. But the fact that nobody seems to even be asking the question is weird -- until you remember it’s twitter, and nobody asks questions when it comes to twitter. Why would you? Twitter does the asking. 

And absolutely vitally -- where the fuck is Donald Trump? 

(Questions you never think you’ll ask.) 

Elon Musk promised to reinstate him; even if you claim staffing issues, he’s managed to kill all advertising on the site and switch off two-factor authentication, but he couldn’t flip the switch on Trump’s twitter account? Or personally offer him a new one under the aegis of the freest of speeches? Less than a day ago Trump was still trying to get the courts to give him his bluebird back. I don’t want him back on twitter, lord knows, but I’m perplexed that he’s not, because that was part of the package deal Musk was pitching. 

It’s almost like Musk knows what the bridge too far is. And nobody is asking about that either.

I hope people who come here from twitter find joy here. I hope the ship of twitter is righted so that my friends who love it can go back to it, so that the artists and writers I know can get back a vital tool for their creative self-support and the activists I know can regain a great tool for effective organizing. Twitter is a huge part of the cultural landscape and I hope it ends up okay, and I hope the staff still there can get some rest. 

But I also hope that this sharp cultural shock has been a reminder that letting someone else ask the questions means letting someone else control what answers you get.

[pyreo]

man I was thinking about bioshock the other day too because the original story actually knows what its point is. Rapture doesn’t fail and turn into what it is when you find it because scientists went too far in developing plasmids. It failed before that on an ideological level because Ryan, who is an idiot, gives luxury to the individuals he deems ‘brilliant’ and nothing to the working class responsible for maintaining his underwater city.

Rapture is a hollow idea. It’s not that man couldn’t build a habitable city at the bottom of the ocean. He can, he does. Physically, logistically, it is accomplished. But Ryan handpicks people he think will create a utopia and takes businessmen, entertainers he likes, scientists, researchers, and then a few workmen who he treats terribly. He had the technical ability to accomplish the greatest feat of engineering aside from space travel and it was the limitation of his imagination that re-created class struggle and a downtrodden underclass in a snapshot of the surface anyway.

I’ve read ‘Rapture’, the tie-in novel, whose central character is Bill McDonagh because his viewpoint is essential to why Rapture is the way that it is. Ryan handpicks him to join his star-studded ocean paradise because he admires Bill’s work ethic, which seems great, but ingame Bill’s audio diaries show him to be a sane man who sees the basic flaws in Ryan’s approach to governing in a devolving world of corporate anarchy.

You don't heat the pipes, the pipes freeze. Pipes freeze, pipes burst. Then Rapture leaks. Now, I realize you're a posh sort of geezer, and, frankly, I don't give a toss if you piss or go fishing. But once Rapture starts leaking, the old girl's never gonna stop.

He knows plumbing. He takes pride in his craft, and an absolutely essential craft it is, never mind being in a sealed underwater metropolis one faulty rivet away from drowning. While Ryan and Fontaine get lost in their egotistical power stuggle, Bill is making diaries about the necessary repairs to keep everyone alive, noting Fontaine’s deft manipulation of the forgotten working class of Rapture, and correctly surmising that the place will fragment into civil war.

All fantasy aside, Rapture has exactly the same problems as every state on earth, because Ryan’s vision did nothing to address them. Unregulated businesses grow corrupt (the Fisheries show you Ryan considered murdering your economic competitor was fair play), science produces weaponry at horrific immoral cost, the rich employ every advantage to protect their assets, the government swings openly hypocritical and through all this, the people at the bottom of that chain, the workers, the ones picking up rubbish and keeping the toilets flushing, are pushed into slums until they hit breaking point and resort to violence.

You could see it as an indictment of society, human nature, or of politics, but as Ryan makes sure we know Rapture is his to make, share and destroy, I say it’s his overblown libertarianism and infantile grasp of human worth. His radical self-serving agenda played out exactly how Bill predicted, humbling the autocrat beneath the plain sight of the maintenance guy.

You can find an audio log early in the game where a guy who owns a theatre complains to the bar owner next door that the wall’s come down between the auditorium and the connecting toilet and the smell is distracting the patrons. It encapsulates the conflict you wade through; socialites complain that their brand new architectural marvel is falling to bits, and the only part that bothers them is the embarrassment of keeping up appearances. The most vitally important thing in Rapture was keeping it structurally sound at the bottom of the sea, but this got dismissed as grunt work by up-and-comers striving to climb the social ladder who forgot to check their proconceived notions of snobbery at the bathysphere. All the problems of the surface followed them down there to echo unexamined in the depths, and then: plasmids. Exaggerating the power imbalance that was already entrenched in Rapture and had dragged it into an unsustainable state even before someone lit the match or threw bees out of their arm.

[lesbianjackies]

Brooklyn Baby

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 776

Warnings: Language, a bit of angst

Summary: You really wish Eddie Munson would stop playing with your feelings. (Inspired by the song by Lana Del Rey)

General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1

Moots: @spidervee @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa @roxetteblack

Hawkins, Indiana is very different from Brooklyn, New York. You’re used to bustling streets, tall, busy buildings, and car horns honking even in the dead of night. Hawkins is small, and quiet. There are only a few stores and fewer restaurants and you’ve been to all of them. You like it, though; you like feeling like you’re the coolest person there, with your obsession with jazz and beat poetry and the novels you spend most of your time writing - you even sing in a band with Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson.

You’re too cool for Eddie Munson, is what you always tell him.

“I know,” he’ll reply, smirking and twirling a strand of your hair in your fingers. “You’re like ice, baby.”

You’ll laugh, tilting your head back before covering your face. “Shit, that was terrible.”

Eddie’ll laugh as well, biting his lip before leaning closer. “I know,” he’ll whisper, and you’ll close your eyes for a kiss before he pulls away. Just like he always does.

You shake off your thoughts. You’re wearing a little white silk dress; your makeup makes you look like a 1940s femme fatale. Eddie’s letting you sing Lou Reed, your favorite artist, even though he usually sticks to current rock bands or original songs.

“You ready?” You feel his breath on your neck as he sidles up beside you.

You shiver. “Mhm.”

Eddie grins, patting you on the shoulder. “You’re gonna do great. You’re my Brooklyn baby, yeah?”

“Yup.” You force a smile, wishing his flirty remarks actually meant something to him. You sucked in a breath and walked onstage, which was really just a slightly elevated structure in the middle of a park.

Eddie began softly strumming his guitar, and after a moment you began to sing.

“Just a perfect day

“Drink Sangria in the park

“And then later, when it gets dark, we go home

“Just a perfect day

“Feed animals in the zoo

“Then later, a movie too, and then home…”

Eddie is mesmerized by your soft, haunting lilt of a voice. The strumming becomes subconscious as he focuses on you, watching the way the music captures your soul and takes you away from the world. You convey emotion like no one he’s ever seen, with your melancholy stares and delicate, ethereal movements. He loves you like no one he’s ever loved before, but he knows better than to get too close.

You’re a Brooklyn baby, cool as ice and hard as stone. His fleeting glances and flirtatious comments mean nothing to you, so he tries his best to make them mean nothing to him.

After the performance you follow him backstage; sweat glistens on your brow but it only makes you look more ethereal, like a goddess glowing and sparkling after placing an enchantment on a helpless man. Eddie knows not to get too close, but his body doesn’t; he feels himself stepping closer and closer against his will, and before he knows it his lips are on yours and he’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

You desperately kiss him back, grabbing his face and devouring him like you’ve fantasized about so many times. Then you break away, tears streaking mascara down your cheeks. You turn away, rubbing your arms shakily. “Please don’t play with me, Eddie,” you beg him quietly.

Eddie’s features twist in confusion. “What?”

“You don’t love me.” Your voice breaks. “Don’t flirt with me and touch my arm and kiss me like you care when I know you don’t.”

“(Y/N)...” Eddie takes a step toward you. “(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I’d never play with you.”

You sigh, looking down. “Are you lying to me?”

“No, no…” He steps closer; you can feel his breath on your neck. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I couldn’t. Not when I look at you and feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle on the floor.”

You let out a watery laugh, relaxing when you sense his authenticity. “I’m in love with you too,” you tell him quietly.

Eddie grins, spinning you around and capturing your lips once again. “How would you like a boyfriend who’s in a band?” he mumbles against you. “You could brag about me to all your friends, cool girl. They’d be obsessed with you.”

“I’m obsessed with me,” you reply, kissing down his neck. “I don’t need them to be. I just need you to be obsessed with me too.”

He breaks away and cups your cheek, grin widening. “You don’t need to worry about that, baby. I’ve been obsessed with you for years.” He kissed you again.

[silverskye13]

"I'm telling you Doc, one minute we're just talking and making dye, and everything is normal, and then suddenly the sky turns black and a fell wind picks up-- it was scary!"

"Mm-hmm."

"And then get this my dude, Wels's voice gets all twisted and sinister, and he starts quoting the Red King. He wasn't even in Third Life!"

"Sounds spooky - hold this please?"

Ren took hold of the wrench Doc offered to him begrudgingly. He'd been busy pacing and talking and now he was being forced to stand still. Not that he was nervous, or needed the nervous habit of pacing in circles. It's just… well it sure made talking about this easier. It made it feel a little less like he was talking about problems and more like he was just… talking. Which was silly anyway since he wasn’t talking about problems, not really. This wasn’t a problem. It was just one weird, unsettling thing that happened. That was Hermitcraft for you. Weird unsettling things happened all the time, and normally they just ran off his shoulders like water. This shouldn’t be bothering him - it wasn’t bothering him. He was absolutely, completely unbothered. So he was perfectly fine to stand there holding Doc’s wrench, waiting patiently to hand it back to him.

“Was that all that happened?” Doc prompted him from the underside of the redstone machine he was working on. Ren had been too definitely-not-unsettled to ask him what it was. It seemed to be on the more mundane side of Doc’s contraptions. 

“Oh, well Welsknight’s voice sounded kinda funny.”

“Funny like haha funny, or funny like my-friend-just-got-possessed funny?”

“Definitely the second one.”

“Was The Entity nearby?”

“Doc.”

“What?” Ren couldn’t see Doc’s expression underneath the piston structure Doc was working under, but he could recognize the smile in his voice. “It’s not like possession is exactly new around here. Me and you spent ahm… two weeks? Possessed? Last season.”

“Right.”

“And then you and Grimdog were very possession-y.”

“Well… yeah I guess.”

Doc’s hand emerged from the machine, and Ren handed him back the wrench. A loud bang reverberated from underneath Doc’s machine where he banged it against something, and Ren ducked down to make sure nothing was broken. The banging came again, more insistent this time.  Ren chuckled. “You’ve got a hammer, my dude.”

“Why use a hammer when a wrench will work just fine?”

“Doc, you’re insane.” Ren shook his head chastisingly, as if Doc could see it beneath the mechanics. "Give me the dang wrench."

The wrench came sliding out from underneath the machine with a long metallic ring. “The hammer is in the--”

“I know where your toolbox is, brother.” Ren rolled his eyes and grabbed up the wrench. It was one of the long ones he’d seen people in cartoons use as weapons, and as such was much heavier than he figured it would be when he picked it up. Ren hefted it onto his shoulder with a grunt, marveled for a moment about how in the world Doc had pushed it out to him so easily, and meandered over to Doc’s toolbox. He dropped the wrench and shuffled through the tools, frowning in quiet puzzlement when no hammer magically appeared on the workbench anywhere.

“The hammer is in the kitchen,” Doc called, his voice grinning. 

“Why is it in the kitchen?”

“D’you ever just get the desire to know how the microwave works?”

“So you took a hammer to it?”

There was a pause that matched the convenient length for a shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Well now I know why you keep asking when the next braai is,” Ren sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

Doc’s laughter followed him into the house, where the closed walls cut it off abruptly. It was a nice build, one of Doc’s ecopunk prototypes, and the sandstone walls felt warm with seeping sunlight. Ren passed the long mirror on the way to the kitchen, giving his reflection a sidelong glance as he walked. Once, one of Doc’s prototype machines had caught fire while he was taking a break to make some lunch. The machine had been ruined, as had several hours of work on a uniquely diagonaled roof. Ever since then, if his house had a connecting workshop, Doc put in a set of mirrors that let him look into the workshop. Ren thought it was kinda creepy in a vaguely superstitious way. Being able to see so much of the house meant no corner was truly blind, and therefore everything could be a threat if you squinted at it hard enough. He was waiting for the day he’d walk in from Doc’s workshop only to see that six rooms over some axe-wielding murderer was spying on him. 

The mirrors did, however, show Ren where the hammer was in the kitchen, along with the rather sad looking scraps of Doc’s microwave. Ren let out a disdainful tsk! at the mess on the counter, shrugged, and made his way back towards the workshop. He passed one mirror that glanced between the kitchen, the living room, and the workshop, and eyed it suspiciously, searching the corners of Doc’s house. He walked out of its view, then passed in front of the long mirror facing Doc’s workshop.

Ren froze.

The reflection he was looking at wasn’t him. 

Or, well, it was him, but it was a him that was a few inches taller with gray skin and cheekbones gaunt and sharp enough to sharpen a knife on. He was giving a tight-lipped scowl, even though Ren could definitely feel his jaw hanging open. The mirrored image of himself had its ears pinned back much like Ren’s, but their backward turn much more reflected the bristling of an angry wolf, and much less his own startled-dog response. There was a mantle of fur around his shoulders, a vicious ax scar still bleeding in places on his neck, and his crown, an unpolished and ruddy gold, sunk into his face just beneath his eyes, blinding him. The twisted metal was so tight where it rested, beads of blood trickled down the bridge of his nose and where the crown dug into his temples. 

Ren, understandably, gaped at the reflection peering back at him. His heart jumped in his chest, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. The fur on the mantled cloak bristled in tandem. Ren blinked, and he swallowed, and watched his adam’s apple bob just above the ax scar.

“D… Doc?” Ren stammered, his throat suddenly dry. His reflection mirrored him perfectly, as it should, and the teeth of his reflection looked filed to points. “Wh… what the hell is up with your mirrors, dude?”

Ren slowly leaned away from the mirror, looking around the corner to the one he’d passed in the kitchen. His reflection there was perfectly normal, if not a little pale from the scare. Ren leaned back again, and the mirror in front of him was unchanged -- twisted golden crown and all. Ren squinted - a motion he could only see his reflection mirror in the way his nose scrunched and the crown sank on his brown - and he hesitantly held up his hand. The claws mirrored back at him were just as vicious as the teeth, fingertips coated in blood like he was fresh off of slaughtering something.

“Jeez.”

The word sounded weird when his reflection looked so intimidating. He reached his hand forward to touch the glass. The hand that mirrored his moved to match - and then lurched forward. Ren’s startled gasp smothered in his throat as the bloody hand reached through the mirror to wrap around his throat. It dragged him towards the mirror, and in his rush to brace himself against the mirror’s frame, he dropped the hammer with a loud clatter.

“What’s the matter, laddie,” The Red King growled, “I’ve not scared ye, have I?”

Ren wanted to quip something back, but his mind had gone blank in the wake of a wave of fear - and the knuckle of The Red King’s thumb was currently braced against his windpipe, making it incredibly hard to breathe. He pulled Ren closer to the mirror, like he intended to pull him inside, or crush him against the glass, or whatever it was evil doubles grabbing you through a mirror did once they’d grabbed you. Ren’s arms shook as he tried to pull away, but it felt like trying to drag a wall. The Red King’s grip was a vice, and he held Ren undaunted.

“I find it funny, ye have yer Wels speak my likeness and yet yer still surprised when I answer your call.” Their faces were so close, Ren should be able to feel The Red King’s breath on his face, but he can’t. It’s a dumb thing to notice, especially when he should be focusing on breathing, or breaking free, or any other number of more important things, but that’s what his frantic mind latches onto. The glass doesn’t even fog when The Red King speaks, even though Ren can feel the growl of his voice in the center of his chest. “Ye would have known of me soon enough. I am not a coward who waits on his enemy to strike first. I have tasted death once lad, and I will not taste it again o’er the likes of ye.”

Ren wheezes a breath and tries to stammer something. Something along the lines of I don’t know what you’re talking about or this doesn’t seem like a fair fight or let’s talk about this but he can’t breathe past The Red King’s grip hardly at all. Spots are starting to swim in his vision like fireflies, and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel it harsh against The Red King’s grip, and his arms are starting to feel like rubber.

Doc’s hand, the angry-looking redstone and metal one, clamped down on The Red King’s wrist. His breath was a hiss, as was every gear and servo and circuit in his arm as he said, “Let him go, and I won’t snap your arm in half.”

Ren’s vision was swimming, more phosphorescent dots than vision, but he could still see enough to watch The Red King grin.

“Ye always did surround yerself with strong people, Ren. Stronger than ye ever were.”

The Red King pulled, and one of Ren’s arms buckled, and his face pressed dangerously close to the mirror before Doc managed to recover and pull back. He braced his shoulder against the wall and swore.

“But ye made me stronger, didn’t ye laddie? Strong enough to fight yer battles for ye. Strong enough to live, so ye could die and abandon yer army to their fate.”

Ren’s head was swimming. He managed to grunt through gritted teeth, “Doc-- the glass--!”

His vision swam dark and his grip slipped at the same time the mirror shattered. The hand on his throat vanished, and Ren gasped in a breath of air that was nearly kicked out of him again as he and Doc fell backwards. They landed heavy against the wall behind them and slumped to the floor, Ren cushioned against Doc the whole way down as he focused on gasping and breathing. His vision cleared of its dancing lights, but the phantom of the grip on his neck ached. In front of him, the mirror dripped red down its fractured surface, and Ren was scared for a moment that The Red King had found some horrific way to crawl through the cracks. Until he realized Doc’s hand wrapped around him, the organic one, the one he’d used to punch the mirror, was bleeding from a dozen fresh cuts.

“I meant - gasp - I meant th-the hammer - gasp - m-my dude.”

“Ah,” Doc said flatly, flexing his hand. Something popped worryingly, and Ren figured it was broken somewhere. “I panicked.”

“That’s… fair.”

“Out of all the hels,” Doc gulped shakily, “yours had to be the one stronger than my redstone arm. I was saving that line for something badass.”

Ren laughed, and it wheezed in a ragged mess through his sore throat. “It was still kind of badass.”

“It wasn’t, but thanks.”

Ren slipped his arms around Doc’s chest, because he kind of needed a hug right now and they were already halfway there anyway, what with him landing basically in Doc’s lap. He was trying not to hyperventilate, because the panic was starting to set in, and he thought it was already hard enough to breathe anyway. One of the shards of the broken mirror was dangerously close to his foot, and Ren kicked it away, suddenly scared The Red King would find a way to crawl out of it. Doc hugged him back with all the fervor of someone who was thinking way too hard about what might have happened if he’d been a few seconds slower coming down the hallway.

When they recovered, Doc took down all the mirrors in his house while Ren waited in the garage, trying not to glance his reflection in any of the windows.

[ @countthelions I've once again infected a good idea with my drama but this is inspired by your comments today ]

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

What if Yuu/(Y/N) was from another world? Not in the sense that they're from a parallel dimension to twst- but in the sense that they're straight-up from another planet. I think that'd be cool

I'm gonna do the reactions of the octatrio to alien!Yuu (because I have Octavinelle brainrot currently) but if you want me to do the reactions of the other dorms I can do that!

Not sure how good this is, but I hope you like it!

Azul Ashengrotto

Huh? How have you never heard of a contract?

It's a fairly common legal term, is it not?

And why are you so confused about the anemones?

Is there something wrong with you? Do you have amnesia?

Come to think of it, you don't exactly look... human...

No, you definitely aren't human. You clearly aren't a mermaid or beastman either.

Perhaps you're fae? Though it's very unlikely.

He just can't figure you out. Nothing about you makes sense. Your existence defies all logic.

"What are you?"

Azul doesn't seem very hostile, you see no reason in hiding yourself from him. So, you decide to tell him.

Believe me when I say he is surprised.

Another planet? That's impossible.

It... is impossible, right?

Idia's been talking about aliens recently. This must be a stupid prank, right?! (It is not)

Once Azul finally comprehends and accepts that you are in fact an alien, his business mind takes over.

"Say, (Y/N)... why don't you work for me for a small while...?"

If he had a real, live alien working for him in his establishment, then... ooh, the possibilities are endless!

You declined, but he'll get you to agree eventually!

Surely there's something you want.

And he'll find out what that is, eventually.

You didn't see him as dangerous before, and you still don't, but you definitely get the feeling you should be cautious around him. "Oh (Y/N)! I have an amazing deal for you! Huh? Where are you going? Wait up! I need to discuss the terms and conditions of this contract with you~!"

Jade Leech

He knows what you are, he knew you weren't of this world the moment he met you.

No human, mermaid, bestman, or fae has features such as yours.

And he's definitely seen you do some unnatural things.

You can lift approximately five times what someone of your weight should be able to, you secrete a toxic substance when nervous, certain parts of your body glow when it's dark...

You really are a wonder.

Jade finds you interesting, so interesting...

"Greetings, (Y/N). I know we don't talk much, but would you like to come with me to have tea with me? I promise you a pleasant experience."

You think of Jade as someone who is potentially very dangerous, so you hesitate to accept.

But after some "convincing", you decide to go along with him.

Well, he wasn't lying about the tea, which is good...

And then, well, he drops the bomb.

"I know what you are."

You begin looking around for any way out of this situation but then he laughs at you

"No need to be so scared. I find you fascinating, and I simply want to know more about you!"

You don't exactly believe that he's doing this 100% innocently, but you don't think he's outright lying.

So, you decide to stay a while longer and answer his questions.

He asks you about your anatomy, your home planet, your family, your strange features, your bioluminescence, that toxic substance you can make, your bone structure, your organs, why your species evolved the way it did...

Jade is very curious about you.

Almost to a suspicious degree. "Is that right? How fascinating. Please continue, (Y/N), I would love to know more about you! Hm? No, of course not! Never in my wildest dreams would I blackmail you with this information! I'm simply asking out of my own curiousity."

Floyd Leech

"I'll be honest with you... I have no idea what a shrimp is, Floyd."

He is just baffled when you admit that.

How have you never heard of a shrimp?

Much like Azul, Floyd just assumes there's something wrong with you at first. Either that, or you've lived a life so sheltered you've somehow never heard of a shrimp.

Whatever the reason, the fact that you don't know what a shrimp is keeps him awake that night.

As he's thinking about that interaction, laying in bed, eating his snacks, he recalls the time you first saw his mer form.

Didn't you whisper something to Crabby? Something like "What's a moray...?"

Huh. That's a weird coincidence.

And... when Azul overblotted and reverted into his mer form, you also seemed super confused and freaked out...

And when you saw all the fish and coral in the Mostro Lounge fish tank you looked like you'd never seen anything like it before...

Those are some weirdly coincidental coincidences.

And, you're body's pretty weird too... you don't look like a human. You've got horns and weird looking legs, not to mention the fact that you glow in the dark like he does in his mer form... you're really weird.

But it's probably nothing.

After laying in bed for another hour or so, the realization hits him all at once.

He runs to Ramshackle dorm as fast as he possibly can, still in his pajamas, and pounds on your door until it opens.

"SHRIMPY, YOU'RE AN ALIEN?!"

You're still half-asleep, and not sure why this six-foot-tall merman was yelling at you.

Floyd barges inside, and sits down on the couch, insisting you tell him everything about you.

Again, you're half-asleep, and would much rather not be in this siituation.

"Aha~! Us merfolk don't exactly have any stories of life on other planets, so this is pretty exciting!"

He thinks you're super cool!

He also wants you to know about him, since you probably don't have anything like him back home! He'll tell you all about his funky eel biology!

Unfortunately for him, however, that just made you feel more scared of him. In your mind, nothing that has poisonous blood and two sets of teeth is harmless.

You politely ask him to leave.

It does not work.

"Y'know, now that I know what you are, I don't really thnk 'Little Shrimpy' suits you too well, ehe... howsabout Magnapinna?"

You try pushing him out the door to no avail.

"I've never seen a magnapinna myself, since they live suuuuuuper deep down in the ocean, but apparently they look a lot like aliens! Suits you, doesn't it~?"

You can't get him to leave.

Like his brother, Floyd finds you very interesting. He thinks you're really cool, and weird, and interesting, and- you get the idea.

And he bets you think he's really cool and weird and interesting too! You know, if you've never seen something like him, you're probably amazed at him, right?

Oh, you don't find him cool?

You find him terrifying?

That's fine! That just means he can have tons of fun scaring you! "Hah? What's wrong, Magnapinna? Ya scaaaaaaared of me~? Ehehe... that's fine, that's fine... I'm not gonna eeeeat you or anything, so there's nothing to be scared of! You know... unless I decide one day that you're kinda tasty-looking, ehe! Anyways, why don't you tell me more about yourself? I wanna know more about you!"

[obxsummer]

Full Pogue // Ghost of You

summary: the cameron family can't seem to keep their hands off you, sending you and sarah on the battle to get off the coastal venture and reunite with your friends

warnings: the usual obx angst, cursing, physical violence, injuries

navigation -- series masterlist

--

Exhaustion was starting to set in harder than it had before, especially when you were tucked under JJ’s shoulder in the back seat of the Twinkie. Kie was on the floor, a join between her fingers as she sat next to Pope. John B and Sarah occupied the front seat, your brother intent on driving back to Figure Eight in attempt to find Rafe. What you didn’t expect was a slewd of cop cars to be blocking the road up ahead, ruining your course of action.

“Oh shit. They found the truck.”

“Chill, chill, chill, chill,” Pope hushed Kie’s distress as bright blue lights filled the darkness of the van. You sat up fully once a flashlight glossed over your eyes, JJ’s hand refusing to leave your skin despite the cops now approaching. 

“Well, lookee here,” Shoupe commented sarcastically as his light illuminated John B’s face through the open window.

“Evening, officer,” Your brother responded while keeping his face emotionless.

“Sherrif.”

“Right, sheriff. Forgot,” John B corrected his error without intent behind his words. He motioned towards the totaled truck ahead. “Speed kills, huh?”

Shoupe’s light hit your face again, making you wince and hide further into JJ’s shoulder before it moved again to find Kiara. “I pulled the tags, and I know whose truck that is. Hey, Kie. Did you drop your weed pen back there?”

“Sheriff, I just wanna say that this is all my fault. She had nothing to do with this. I take 100% responsibility,” Pope explained.

“Nothing to do with it? You wanna try that again?” Shoupe repeated before shaking his head. “Your parents reported the truck missing four hours ago, and the keys were missing from the house. I’m taking you home. Or I can pull you all in for leaving the scene of an accident.”

“Okay,” Kiara finally admitted defeat. Shoupe directed Officer Plumb to open the van door to let your friend out. Kie wasn’t even phased at the action and turned towards you guys. “Hit me up later and make sure I’m still alive.”

The sound of the door closing sent everyone into silence. You waited for a moment before the blue lights started to disappear and John B followed the tow truck that had the total vehicle on the flatbed. You knew where you were going in hopes of finding the cross and the idea definitely didn’t help the events of the night settle.

“Babe,” JJ’s voice was quiet as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You don’t have to go. We can take you home.”

You shook your head softly, fingers ghosting over the bare skin under his shirt that you had sought out for warmth. You had come this far in the whole thing; there was no way you were stopping now. Surviving the Cameron house had been accomplished before.

The street lights provided barely enough coverage once John B pulled up outside of Sarah’s house. The five of you climbed out and ducked below the wall per Pope’s word in an attempt to see better. 

“He’s got the truck,” JJ whispered as he glanced over the concrete structure. You could hear the hiss of the brakes as Rafe parked the vehicle and killed the engine.

“How much you wanna bet Rafe has the cross inside that truck right now?” Pope asked as you watched the eldest Cameron enter the large house, not without pausing to look over his shoulder.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Sarah started making her way towards the gated entrance before John B was running after her in concern. You could hear broken pieces of their conversation, especially the part where your brother said he wanted to talk about their relationship at that exact moment, which just pissed Sarah off. 

John B stepped back with a smile on his face like a kid on Christmas and it made you roll your eyes. You watched Sarah creep up the driveway, busying tying the piece of your brother’s bandana around her neck as she did so. At least one good thing would come out of tonight.

“Hey! Did you want me to perform your vows while you’re at it?” 

“Did you say ‘be safe’?”

JJ and Pope didn’t hesitate to poke fun at your sibling once he returned to your group. You ignored them, eyes focused on your blonde friend as she glanced inside the passenger window of the truck. She flipped around to raise her arms in confusion when she didn’t find an answer. John B motioned for her to come back, but he was ignored when she pointed inside to signal where she was going. 

“No, no! Don’t go inside!” Pope whisper-yelled as he watched her disappear into the front door. He turned towards John B. “Do the bird call!”

Your brother attempted the worst bird call in history that almost made you blow your cover by bursting into giggles. You shook your head at them as they attempted to do it the right way. “Losers. I’m going over.” You pushed yourself up on the concrete wall before hopping over. John B made a move to follow you but was interrupted by the sharp honking of a horn. You took a glance back, realizing they were caught by security and started running towards the house. 

You stared at the doorknob, a rush of fear running through you at the idea of entering this house willingly. It took a quick second to convince yourself that you were doing this for Pope, and even for Sarah. You weren’t about the let her walk into this house with her murderous brother on a rampage. 

The door was silent as you pushed it open, thankfully stepping into a silent room as you closed the door behind you. You knew this house more than you ever wished to, and being back here was weird, but as long as you avoided that room, you hoped it would be okay. 

Walking up the stairs, you headed in the general direction of Sarah’s room in hopes that she would maybe hide there first. The dark room was empty upon your arrival. “Sarah?” You whispered as you tried to navigate around it without bumping into anything.

“Oh my God, Wheeze. We gotta make this quick, okay?”

A sharp gasp left your mouth before you slammed a hand over your lips to keep quiet. Rafe’s voice echoed around the empty space as his footsteps hit the stairs nearby. He was clearly complaining to the youngest Cameron which told you that he didn’t find your friend just yet. His voice became distant before you heard quieter footsteps. 

Turning the corner, you could see Rafe’s silhouette in Wheezie’s room through the crack in her door. Without wasting a second, you were darting down the stairs in hopes of finding Sarah. Thankfully, the blonde girl ducked out of a bedroom at the perfect second. You had just enough time to place your finger over her lips before she screamed. A moment passed before she processed it was you and tugged your arm to lead you down the stairs. 

You followed her outside to where the truck was parked in the wrap-around driveway. “You came after me?” Sarah almost yelled as she turned to you in shock. “Are you insane?”

“In my defense, everyone was going to follow me!” You told her as she shoved the keys in her hand into the lock on the back doors. “I didn’t want to leave you alone!”

She ignored you and finally got the door unlocked. Handing you the keys, she twisted the handle as the metal creaked and swung out to reveal the back of the truck to you both. You didn’t even attempt to find the cross when the first thing you noticed was a pair of eyes staring back, unblinking. The second thing you noticed, was that it was the face of Limbrey’s partner, Renfield. Sarah’s fingers dug into your shoulder as the two of you stepped back with the realization that there was a dead body, here, in front of you, in the truck that Rafe had been driving.

An aggressive yank had a gasp falling from your lips before your back slammed against the metal of the truck. Tears sprung to your eyes as your already sore back and shoulder sparked pain down your spine. You were suddenly face to face with the person who you couldn’t seem to escape. 

Rafe’s expression broke into a devilish smirk at the idea of having you back into his hands again. “I really wish you didn’t do that.”

“Get off of me!” You spat back fingers digging into his wrists that were heavy on your shoulders. You shoved him aggressively, the two of you wrestling for a moment before Rafe’s arm was arround your throat and holding you tightly against him. Sarah yanked on her brother’s hood, choking him back before he latched onto her hair, literally dragging the two of you back into the house. 

The tile floor beneath you was chilly as Rafe tossed you forward without a care for your well-being. Sarah’s body collided with yours a second later before the door slammed shut and clicked locked. 

“What the hell!” Sarah grabbed the first bottle of wine she could find and threw it into the wall where it shattered into pieces. Another bottle, this time champagne, followed as you attempted to pull yourself off the floor. Your spine was aching with each movement and you knew it was just a matter of time before the injury got worse. You couldn’t keep doing this running thing forever.

“Rafe! Let us out!” Sarah pounded on the door aggressively, her facade breaking.

“I’m not letting you out, Sarah. Not until you calm down, okay? I’m trying to be civil here.”

“You asshole!” You were on your feet next, your hand colliding with the wood as rage filled you. No way you were about to be trapped back in this house again. Your saving grace was the form of Sarah Cameron beside you, reminding you that you weren’t alone.

Another voice joined the conversation, one that Sarah recognized right away. “Rose? Rafe locked us in!” She turned towards you, her hand grasping yours to offer any comfort possible. 

“You fail to understand that constantly, don’t you? Huh?” Rafe’s body slammed against the door causing you to jump back in shock. 

“Shut the hell up!” You snapped back, your foot connecting with the barrier. You couldn’t believe this was happening all over again. 

“Is that Y/N? Rafe, what the hell is going on?” Rose’s voice carried through the wood, now becoming your only hope of help to getting out. 

Stepping back, you sat on the couch in the room and placed your head in your hands as you tried to breathe. Sarah continued to bang on the door, ignoring Rose’s pleads to calm down. She turned to you when the answering stopped, collapsing into your side with a heavy breath. The silence of sniffles and cries continued until the lock on the door clicked and opened to reveal Rose.

“Girls?”

The two of you clambered off the couch towards her, Sarah crying about calling the cops as she stumbled into the large arm chairs in the hallway. You sat next to her, pulling your legs up into your chest as you glanced around the room in an attempt to keep an eye out for the inevitable. 

“What happened?” Rose asked as she tried to coach Sarah through her breathing. “Y/N, hey. What happened?”

“There’s a dead body in the truck,” You answered simply as you stared ahead emotionless. You took the teacup Rose offered, letting the liquid burn your throat without waiting. “Rafe killed Renfield.”

Rose hesitated for a second, listening as Sarah choked through more details while she waited for her tea to cool down. She eventually took the chance to sip on the warm drink, her breathing calming as she was forced to hold in air. “L-Last time Rafe did that… Dad took the blame, and you see where that got him.”

“Sarah, you’re absolutely right,” Rose agreed as she placed her hand on her stepdaughter’s knee. “I told your dad so many times that there was something wrong with Rafe. You just need to calm down. It’s gonna be okay.”

Taking a deep breath, your head felt light from the crying and yelling you had done. Leaning back, you crossed your arms over your chest, the exhaustion from running nonstop settling in. Glancing over at Sarah, you could see panic slowly fill her face as she looked to you. Her eyes drifted to the teacup and suddenly, your adrenaline crash made sense. 

“What’d you do?” You whispered, your hand reaching out to grab onto Sarah’s sleeve. This feeling of helplessness and dread was sickening.

“What’d you do?” Sarah repeated the question as the teacup crashed to the floor so she could grab your fingers. “Rose.”

The woman in front of you dug a pill bottle out of her pocket. “I’m really sorry. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. I promise. I need you to rest okay? When you wake up, everything’s going to be okay. I had to do whatever it takes to keep this family together, Sarah.”

Your eyes were heavy as you tried to blink the fuzziness away but sleep… sleep sounded so so good.

Rose stared silently for a moment, her heart aching at the idea of putting you anywhere near Rafe again, but they were compromised and she couldn’t risk leaving you here and running back to your brother. Not when the feds were already on their case. It would just risk further investigation and that was the last thing she needed. After assuring you were both unconscious and conversing with her stepson about the body and where to go, she called Wheezie down to help move the final pieces. 

Wheezie stared at the sight of you and Sarah, mostly asleep against each other in the foyer. “What happened with them?” 

Rose shushed her and wrapped your arm over her shoulder, pointing for the younger girl to do the same with Sarah. “They’re fine, it’s just been a long day. Y/N was freaking out about being back in the house and so Sarah freaked out and they wouldn’t stop crying. I gave them an anti-anxiety pill. They’ll be fine.”

Sarah and Wheezie were lugging behind, the younger girl struggling with the weight of her sister. Rose pulled the car door open, ungracefully dropping you inside before running to help get Sarah in too. She wasted no time to climb in the driver’s seat and start the car.

Across the lawn, JJ’s heart fell out of his chest at the sight of you, unconscious, in Rose’s arms. He knew he shouldn’t have let you hop the fence, but you were stubborn and he couldn’t risk getting you caught with them in the first place. 

“What’d she do to them?” John B whispered as he watched the scene unfold. The idea of losing both of you to wherever Rose was going was not about to become true. Not after you had made it this far. When Wheezie shut the door behind her and the car started moving, the two boys took off in an attempt to stop it.

Your eyes attempted to focus with the blur of lights. You could feel Sarah’s shoe in your side, the leather seats behind your back. The clothes on your body were not your own but you didn’t have the energy to piece it all together.

Hands smacking against car windows made you jump. You could barely recognize your brother’s voice, JJ’s right behind him before they faded away. Taking a deep breath, you filtered it as a dream and fell back into a peaceful sleep once again. 

--

Waking up was nowhere near as comfortable as to when you fell asleep. The ground beneath you felt wobbly unlike the smooth bumps of a car and there was nothing but the hum of machines to fill your ears. The pounding in your skull was mind numbing and the sun shining in your eyes didn’t help either. With a deep gasp, you sat up sharply to see the small room you had been left in. Soft sweatpants and a tank top covered your body along with a zip-up jacket, most likely remainders of clothes that had been in the house from when you were trapped there.

Sarah was nowhere to be found and from the looks of it, you were alone. Glancing out the windows, your heart sank at the sight of a never ending ocean which meant you were on a boat going who knows where away from your brother, JJ, and your friends. 

Moving to your feet, you grabbed the door handle in hopes it would be unlocked but that obviously was a long shot. You groaned, hand slamming against the wood in annoyance before sitting back in the chair you had originally been in. The sound of footsteps approached quickly before the lock clicked and the door opened. 

You didn’t know what you expected when you looked up - a miracle hopefully, but the glaring eyes of Rafe Cameron were easy to ruin that dream. You closed your eyes tightly, digging your fingers against your scalp as if it would wake you up from this real life nightmare. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… I told you we might as well be friends at this point. Make our lives easier.”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Rafe,” You grumbled as you stared at your ruined shoes beneath you. The less you had to look at him, the better.

A harsh hand grabbed your hair, yanking your head back to you were forced to look up. “You’re so lucky I convinced Rose to bring you up here. She was going to leave you at the house, all alone.”

Your hand grabbed his forearm and squeezed it tightly until he finally let go. “Am I supposed to appreciate that? This isn’t the first time you’ve stolen me from my family, you fucking psychopath!” The harsh sting on your cheek was expected and after you got over the initial pain of the slap, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation in front of you and got to your feet. “God! What is it going to take for you to learn that I’m never staying with you, I hate every part of your being, and no matter how long you think you can keep me here, JJ and John B will find me, and you are going to lose. I will make sure of it.”

Chest to chest with the face of the person who haunted your sleep, the rush of anger and adrenaline in your veins held you still as you looked him in the eye. You refused to be scared of him, not when you were hundreds to thousands of miles from your family. 

The silence was teirrifying in itself before Rafe tugged your arm and led you out of the room. You didn’t bother to ask questions and refused to let him know you were nervous. He turned a few corners, grip getting increasingly tighter before practically launching you into a room like the one you had been. 

The first person you saw was Sarah, her face exhausted and annoyance evident in her features. You were thankful to see her, knowing the two of you might have a chance of getting out of here together. All of that hope disappeared the second the person sitting across from her turned to look at you. Ward Cameron, alive and well in front of you. It was almost silly to think your group would finally get a chance at the gold, or even the cross again.

Ward ignored your presence in the room, continuing to explain to Sarah about his remorse for not calling her, for the whole lie of his death. Rafe didn’t hesitate to make a shitty comment about being the only grateful child. His fingers ran across the bare skin of your neck making you tense as you stood there, frozen.

“That’s psychopathic. Both of you,” Sarah shot back, her eyes drifting from Rafe behind you to her father.

“I promised Rafe that he would’t go to prison for helping me,” Ward continued, “I had to make good on that promise.”

“Not that you care.”

“Did it look like I didn’t care when I thought Dad was dead?” Your friend defended herself as she glared at her brother. 

Rafe shook his head. “It-It actually looked like you cared about running off with some asshole-”

“It looked like all you cared about was the inheritance!” Tugging your arm out of Rafe’s grasp, you shoved him away from you in favor of sitting on the couch near Sarah. 

Ward eventually got both siblings to quit screaming before turning towards her again. “I know you’re angry right now, and rightfully so. The important thing is that it’s all behind us now. It is. We’re gonna live a new life, a-and Y/N can stay with us. All of us, together.” 

“Oh, hell no,” You mumbled under your breath, palms coming up to rub your eyes in hopes that you would blink and be back at home with JJ. You couldn’t even be surprised about the way everything went down, and of course, Rafe gets to drag you into it because Ward doesn’t care what he does. 

Sarah stared at her dad blankly as he attempted to convince her that the destination would be paradise. You kept watching as he slid a stack of tourist papers over to her. She leaned forward to catch them all in her hands before shoving them back towards Ward. “I want to call my friends, and I want to call my boyfriend. Can I at least just tell them that Y/N and I are okay?”

To your shock, Ward nodded. “Yes, of course you can. As soon as we get there, you both can call John B. He knows you’re here, right?”

You let out a bitter laugh, “No. He doesn’t. Your psychopathic son kidnapped us and your crazy ass wife drugged us!” Your brother would much rather throw himself into the ocean than let something like this happen.

Ward copied your laugh and threw all the crumbled papers into the garbage. “He came by the house not long after you two fell asleep. You know the cross you’ve all been looking for? Rafe was able to get it. Turns out, that I guess historically, it belongs to the Heywards.”

“Yeah, we know.”

“Well, it turns out that the most important thing to me, is you, so I gave John B the cross for you. And I let Rafe bring Y/N, because you need someone you can trust, and I know that’s not me right now.”

You and Sarah shared a glance, completely unbelieving of any word Ward was speaking. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, and John B was okay with that?”

Ward came to crouch between the two of you. “Well, um, I had just given him a half-billion-dollar artifact, so, yeah. He seemed pretty okay. I don’t know what to tell you, girls”

You wanted nothing more than to kick him straight in the face and to watch his blood pour across his dress shirt. This family was fucked up and you weren’t staying here much longer to find out how bad. Whether you had to swim to the closest island or find a way to sneak out yourself, you were gonna do it. 

Rose and Wheezie came in a few moments later, Wheezie very much excited about the idea of going to a privately owned island. Sarah completely ignored her sibling in favor of looking up to avoid eye-contact. It didn’t take long for the awkward silence to win, with Rafe and Ward heading who knows where and Wheezie leaving in search of cards for you, Sarah, and Rose to be left. 

Sarah nudged your foot slightly, giving you a look before she groaned and stood up. You watched her carefully, not sure what exactly she had planned but giving her the space to do so. Suddenly, she stumbled across the room, catching Rose’s attention.

“Whoa, Sarah. Hey, what’s wrong, sweetie?” The magazine she was holding was discarded, her attention now fully on her stepchild.

“I just think I’m gonna be seasick,” Sarah whined as she leaned against one of the counters. 

Rose stood up from her seat, claiming she had ‘just the thing’ to cure Sarah’s faux sickness. While Rose occupied herself with digging through the closet, Sarah was waving you along out the door that Wheezie had accidentally left open. The two of you slipped out into the yellow-lit hallway and made your way through an open door to the cargo area. Glancing around, your eyes caught sight of the one object that definitely wasn’t supposed to be here: The Cross of Santo Domingo.

Tapping Sarah’s arm aggressively, you caught her attention before pointing towards the object that was resting in a large wooden crate. With a roll of her eyes and a newfound anger, she continued out of the hallway until you guys finally came to fresh air. You took a long look at the ocean, no sign of land anywhere near, before following Sarah up a flight of stairs towards the main cabin.

From the window, you could identify two crew members inside but a freehand walkie talkie close by that you could snag given a distraction. Sarah motioned to two almost empty buckets of paint that were set nearby. She grabbed one and waved you towards the doorway before tossing it across the deck. One of the crew members turned immediately at the noise as Sarah ducked to hide. 

As the crew member stepped outside, you had just enough time to grab the walkie talkie and step back out to where Sarah was hiding. Fingers shaking as you dialed 911, neither you nor Sarah even saw a crew member approaching when the radio crackled to life. 

“Dispatch 60290.”

“Hello? Hello, my name’s Y/N, I’m on a boat called the Coastal Venture. I’m with Sarah Cameron, we’ve-we’ve been kidnapped. I need-” Someone grabbed the radio of your hands with a demanding shush of silence. You stared at him with wide eyes as he kept your shoulder pressed against the wall and raised the radio to his ear.

“Yeah, that’s just my teenage daughter playing pranks again. Yeah, sorry.” He ended the call and applied more pressure to keep you in your spot as Sarah watched, concern. “You’re in deep shit, kid.”

Another crew member came to watch you and Sarah while the previous one, you assumed the captain, busied himself with calling Ward. The man was quick to come to your location, giving you and Sarah a glare as he stepped in to speak with the captain. 

Taking a deep breath, you slouched against the side of the boat and slumped down against the wall. You just wanted to get the hell off this ship and as far away from the Cameron family as you possibly could. Rafe’s weird obsession with you was becoming a little too real at this point, especially if he’s somehow convinced Ward to bring you along as if it wouldn’t just raise questions.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked as sat down next to you. She knew it was an obvious question and that you probably didn’t want to talk to her, but she felt like she needed to ask.

You shrugged, eyes scanning the ocean around you. “I thought I would be free of this… repetitive endless loop. I don’t know why your brother is so obsessed with me, but Sarah… if it comes between staying on this boat or jumping into the ocean, I’m out,” You admitted as you looked over at her. “I don’t expect you to follow me, it’s probably a death wish, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’d come with you,” She admitted in a heart beat. “Somehow I just know you and I would do better out there than we think.”

Your small conversation was interrupted when Ward slammed the door of the cabin shut and stomped towards both of you. He didn’t hesitate to grab the hoods of your jackets and drag you down the stairs to the main level. There was a moment of quiet, one you dreaded because you knew the screaming match was on the other side. 

“Do you want them to take you?” The question was low and heavy as it slipped from Ward’s mouth.

“We didn’t ask to be here!” Sarah defended as she tossed her hands around in frustration.

“You’re here, and you’re staying here!” Ward screamed right back, the tone of his voice enough to send you into shock as you stumbled back away from him. It had been months since you’d heard him yell that way and it still struck you in the gut the way it had before. He was terrifying, and he scared you, and worst of all, he knew it too.

Sarah smacked her dad’s hand away in order to grab yours and pull you with her as she stormed away from the scene. What the two of you missed, was the sight of your brother looking over the railing with the painful realization that Ward Cameron was alive. What you missed, was that your friends managed to sneak on the boat and were looking for you and Sarah, risking their own lives and recruiting Cleo to help their mission. Your body felt like it was floating, no doubt your brain’s defense to keep you away from all the memories threatening to cave you in. Part of you regretted hopping over the wall to help Sarah that night, but honestly, you didn’t. You didn’t want her to go through this alone.

Turning the wrong corner, your luck ran you straight into Rafe Cameron, who had obviously been waiting for your arrival. He took your moment of distraction to grasp onto your wrist and twist your arm painfully behind your back. A sharp whimper left your mouth as he pushed you along, Sarah screaming and fighting her dad behind you. 

“You Pogues never learn your lesson, huh? Someone always has to get hurt.” His statement was venomous yet you still wanted to roll your eyes at him. Kook King Rafe Camerone wouldn’t be winning every battle, you would make sure of that. Especially once you got off this boat with Sarah, one of his biggest prizes would be swimming away before he could blink. 

Rafe pulled you into a dark red room, an alarm blaring nearby for unknown reasons, but it was enough to give you a headache. “This is what happens when we can’t trust you,” Rafe tried to reason.

You laughed and moved away from him when he dropped his grip. “Oh, yes. Because you and your dad are so trustworthy!” You shot back as Ward and Sarah stumbled in the room together. “We saw the cross. The whole ridiculous speech you gave about trading it was see through. Do either of you ever tell the truth?” 

You felt like a little kid arguing with your dad as you did so often. He always took John B’s side, never yours. He never let you do anything that your brother got away with. Your whole life, you were second place, limited, weak. And here you were, back in the same scenario with Ward and Rafe screaming at you and Sarah. 

“Since you both clearly cannot make good decisions, I will make them for you!” Ward turned towards you after he finished yelling at his daughter. “Decision one, you will not see John B or that Maybank boy again. Ever. You’re both coming with us, for good. One day, you will see. You’ll grow up and you’ll see I’m doing this for you.” He pointed at Sarah before making a move to leave.

“No, you’re not!” She clipped back. “Everything you do is for yourself. You are greedy. You are selfish. You are manipulative, you are a liar.”

“I am your father.”

“And you are a murderer.” 

The loud smack that followed made you gasp as Ward’s hand landed against Sarah’s cheek. With wide eyes, you launched yourself on Ward’s back and wrapped your arm around his neck, choking him with force. 

“You sick son of a bitch!” You screamed as he tried to pull you off to no avail. Rafe’s hands yanked at your jacket before Sarah launched at him with a wrench she found nearby. Ward’s fingers grasped as your arms as he gasped for air, but you weren’t giving up so easily. “Oh, how’s it feel, Ward Cameron? Is this how you killed my father? Tossed him in the ocean to never be seen again? Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

He moved sharply, nailing your spine into a ridge in the wall that had you crying in pain and releasing your hold on him. You didn’t hesitate to collect yourself off the ground, pulling Sarah’s arm from where she had just knocked Rafe in the back of the head so the two of you could get out of there. Sarah turned and locked the door as quickly as possible, but the heavy metal did nothing to mute the screams coming from the other side. 

A broken order to meet at the tween forward hull came over the PA but neither of you bothered to listen to it and continued to run as far as you could. Sarah turned a sharp corner, leading the two of you straight to where a decent sized lifeboat was dangling over the water. She tossed her sweatshirt inside and moved to unlock all the latches keeping everything tied up.

You followed her lead, grabbing anything that looked useful before hitting the lever to move the lifeboat further over the water so you could lower it. It hit the water shortly after, both of you sharing a smile of success before you started throwing the ladder off the side to climb down. Throwing the last rung off the side, you stood up straight with a smile. “Let’s go home, Sarah.”

When the blonde girl didn’t answer, you turned around to see her in a staring match with her father who had managed to escape the lock on the door. She took a step back into your hands, pointing a sharp finger at her dad. “You get the hell away from me! I’m not doing this shit anymore, I’m not going with you!” She shouted angrily.

Ward surprisingly nodded. “I know, I get it. I mean it took a while because I didn’t wanna believe, but… I finally understand what everybody was trying to tell me. You’re not one of us. Right? Not anymore. And you never will be. But now, the problem is this… what do I do now?”

“You let us go,” Sarah said, the nerves clear throughout her body as she stood in front of him. You could tell she was terrified and after the events of today, you didn’t blame her. 

“Let you go?” Ward repeated before laughing. “Let you go back and tell everyone that I’m alive and tell them where we are and what we’ve done? Baby, come on now. You know I can’t do that.” He placed his hands on her neck softly. “I don’t know what to do with you!” 

In a swift movement, his grip tightened and he pushed her back against the metal side. You screamed in shock, jumping forward to grab Ward’s throat and throw him off balance. He seemed to be expecting it though, and with a harsh shove, you were colliding with the other wall of the boat. 

Your body was sending big red flags with even the slightest of movements. Your shoulder ached, back scorching with pain, but you refused to watch Sarah die at the hands of her own father. Attempting to sit up, you grabbed the side of the boat but a sharp pain up your spine kept you grounded.

“Sarah! Let her go!” You screamed in hopes that someone, anyone would hear and stop Ward. You knew you were hopeful to think anyone would even come in between him and murdering someone, but you had to try.

“Get off her!”

A blur of pink flooded your vision as someone ran forward, yanking Ward off of Sarah. The Cameron patriarch crumbled to the ground with the force of the punch before you were able to focus your vision enough to recognize your brother was standing a few feet away. He didn’t hesitate to hold Sarah in his grasp, the two of them mumbling reassurances as you managed to pull yourself into a sitting position.

“John B!” Your shout was a split second late as Ward managed to get back on his feet and tackled your brother from his spot. Sarah yelled out in shock, her hands grasping at her dad in a futile attempt to make him stop. John B managed to elbow Ward in the ribs to gain enough time to pull away and kick the older man in the stomach.

Once John B had the upper hand, Sarah took a second to run to your side. “I gotcha, here.” Her hands were gentle as they helped pull you from the ground, a sharp hiss leaving your lips as you did so. All the nonstop running and chaos more than likely irritated previous injuries and subjected you to new ones. There wasn’t any time to worry about it now, though.

John B managed to hit hard enough that Ward’s skull connected with the low side of the boat causing an instant formation of blood. You watched as your brother crouched down to taunt the man who had ruined so much of his life. “Is this how you did it? Is this how you killed my father? You just threw him in the ocean?”

Tears burned your eyes as you listened to John B almost repeat the exact same thing you had said to Ward not too long ago. As much as you tried to avoid it, you were just kids. Kids who were mourning their father who had been lost. There was no closure, no happy ending, and you were thrown head first into this crazy whirlwind of treasure hunting with no form of guidance. 

“I never got to say goodbye because of you. This is all your fault.” 

John B shifted to pick Ward up by the fabric of his shirt, leaning to throw the man overboard as he pictured his father in a similar position. He hesitated, taking a second to look at Sarah, who gave him a teary nod. Your brother looked to you next, taking in the exhaustion on your face and the tears on your cheeks as you held yourself in a hug. He refused to let you watch him do this, and he refused to let Sarah feel alone because of him. 

Deciding against what he really wanted to do, John B let go of Ward’s shirt. Sarah let out a visible sigh of relief but didn’t say a word. Your brother was quick to jump back into action. “Hey, we gotta go, okay? I got you, we gotta pick up the others.”

He turned to you a second later before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. A sob threatened to break free from your throat at the feeling of being held by your older brother, the realization that he actually didn’t forget about you this time overwhelming. You couldn’t care about the pain rushing through your body with every movement, you were just glad he was here.

“You’re okay, promise,” He reassured as he let go to hold your hand instead. Turning back to Sarah, he grabbed her hand too before the three of you placed yourselves on the edge of the boat. You could see the lifeboat down below and there was no time to climb the ladder at this point. John B gave a quick countdown before you jumped into the dark ocean below. 

The water felt cool for a moment, relaxing the tension in your body as you swam to the surface. John B and Sarah were there seconds later, all of you swimming as fast as possible towards the lifeboat. Grabbing the ropes along the side, you kicked your legs as hard as you could to get some momentum to climb up the boat. Each movement caused a tingling sensation across your back, but you had come way too far to stop now.

John B climbed up next, reaching out to help Sarah before he moved to start the engine. Just as it kicked to life, you watched as two more people jumped from the deck of the boat into the water. John B quickly steered the lifeboat in their direction until you could make out Pope’s familiar face alongside a girl you hadn’t seen before.

Hands reaching out, you and Sarah grabbed onto the girl and pulled her aboard as John B hauled Pope up next to you. “Oh my God!” Sarah practically screamed as she recognized the girl you had just pulled from the water. “Cleo, holy shit!”

“Long time no see, girl,” Cleo responded as she hugged Sarah tightly. You didn’t bother with introductions, figuring it could wait until you weren’t fighting for your life in an endless ocean.

“Where’s J and Kie?” 

Your brother’s question had you turning towards him in concern. “JJ?” You repeated your boyfriend’s name in shock that the whole damn crew had managed to sneak onto the boat without getting caught. 

“We’re gonna find them,” John B assured you as he began to turn the boat towards the other side of the Coastal Venture. 

The rush of water in your ears was almost deafening but even still, you could hear a distance scream, “John B! Help!”

You could make out Kie’s head as she strugged to swim above the rocky waves. Your heart sank as you recognized the blond hair barely moving next to her. “JJ!” 

Similar screams echoed behind you as hands fought hands to grab onto your boyfriend and relieve Kie of his weight so she could climb up. You and John B managed to pull him up in between the two of you as you tried to wake him up. The sight of blood on his forehead terrified you.

“J, come on.” You were so sick of crying all the time, but nothing scared you more than the idea of JJ not being here. “Come on, come on!” You tapped his cheek aggressively, trying in vein to snap him out of shock. You were so overwhelmed with trying to wake him up that you didn’t notice the lifeboat engine stalling, or the face that Rafe had a gun aimed straight at you. 

“JJ, please!” Your voice cracked with tears that you couldn’t hold back as the reality that JJ might not be coming back from this fight hit you full force. “You can’t leave me, you promised! Wake up!”

An aggressive cough finally escaped his mouth as he let out all the water he had inhaled while unconscious. A wave of relief took over as you finally relaxed next to him with your hand still on his shoulder in fear that he would disappear if you let go. Everyone crowded him with words of concern as John B continued to steer you all away. 

JJ followed the feeling along his arm up to your worried face. You stared back at him, a small smile on your lips with ugly tears no doubt still on your cheeks. His expression was blank, probably confused from what he woke up to, but he was okay, and that was all that mattered.

“Sup?”

You collided against him, hands searching for any bare skin you could grab to just feel him, and hold him, and ground yourself. JJ shifted to sit up so he could hold you properly, letting you settle into his lap once he got his thoughts together. His arms were snug around you as he pieced together that you were okay, and you were here, with him. No more Rafe Cameron, no more kidnapping. You were safe in his arms.

“Just always looking for attention, huh?”

JJ laughed, one of his hands letting go of your waist to gently touch the side of his head. “What the hell happened?”

“Blunt end of a machete,” Kie answered simply, grabbing one of the towels you had thrown aboard to hold it against JJ’s head to stop the bleeding.

“Next time, duck.”

As the boat continued to coast away from the Coastal Venture, vows of the treasure hunt not being over were promised, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were just thankful to have your family, here, in one piece more or less. That was all that mattered.

Your group settled into a rather comfortable conversation, everyone catching up on what was missed. Cleo was apparently the girl who had helped Sarah and John B in Nassau, saving their lives more than once. Your friends had snuck onto the boat through one of the shipping containers, sweating it out until Pope and John B were brave enough to take the risk to look around. Sarah relayed your half of the story, letting everyone know how Ward had escaped and Rose was in on it. 

“Hi,” JJ’s voice was quiet as he looked down at you. Your sweatshirt sleeve had been ripped off in favor of wrapping the material around his head to keep the bleeding down, but if you were honest, it just made him look silly. 

“Hi,” You repeated as you leaned your head against his shoulder, not wanting to separate from him yet. Your heart was racing, the adrenaline refusing to wear off just yet until you guys found safety somewhere. This never ending battle of attempting to find some normalcy was pointless now, and all you could hope for was that your family would be able to stick together through whatever was coming.

“Are you okay?” JJ lips were gentle on your temple as he held you close. He couldn’t lie around the fear in his chest when you went missing. There was no way to tell if you were okay, if Rafe had gotten to you or if you were in a mindset he couldn’t pull you out of. JJ just wanted to make everything okay again. 

You looked up at him, placing a small kiss on his jawline before settling in the crook of his neck. “I will be.”

And so, here you were. A group of chaotic, overwhelmed teenagers who had nothing to their names. No food, no clothes, just you and the wide ocean ahead of you. You didn’t know what would happen from here, if you guys would figure it out or if you would die in this lifeboat with nothing left. But you honestly couldn’t care; as long as you had your family with you, you’d be fine.

To going full Pogue.

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tags: @strawberryfolks @jinxfirebolt18902 @lnnlove @itsmytimetoodream @dazzlingnights

[jellifysh]

Ride with you (part 9)

Or, Jungkook’s Ex-Fiancés Can Really Hold A Grudge

OT7 x reader (mafia au, Jungkook x reader focus, exes to lovers, eventual polyamory, this one has a LOT OF EXPLAINING and backstory, mission stuff, gun shots, blood, death but it’s none of the main characters, can you tell that Jimin and and Namjoon are my bias/bias wrecker bc I’m starting to notice a pattern in my writing, Yoongi waxes lyrical abt jk and I think it’s cute but you can totally skip over it I get a little self indulgent, no fr like Yoongi is just inner monologuing for his whole bit but I think it’s worth paying attention to the difference between what Yoongi thinks and what he actually says out loud)

The organizations.

Two infamous institutions unknown by most, the lucky people whose lives didn’t revolve around sowing trouble in the shadows.

You, however, had always been part of the unlucky few. The people who lived in violence and chaos. Murderers, thieves, mafias, they were all violent means to an end. Normal people think of them as evil, unnecessary, and something that needed to be ended forever. But life wasn’t so simple. People needed power, and when politicians wanted governments toppled, the organizations were there. When local gangs wanted drugs to fund their business, when thieves needed jobs, when normal people whose lives spiraled out of control needed help to get back on their feet, the organizations were there.

There were always two, as long as you could remember, at war with each other for supremacy. Jungkook’s was more well versed in trafficking— weapons, humans, drugs, the general type of illegal contraband that no one ever seemed to know the source of. Their agents infiltrated small gangs, built them up bigger and stronger and made them into their puppets. Anywhere there were figurehead regimes, or money being traded behind the scenes, it was the work of Chessman’s pawns. They trained their agents to be manipulative and sly, and never caught at the scene of the crime. They were a dog-eat-dog organization. If you wanted a higher position, you fought for it, your status was always in flux, and people were always being overthrown by the next most ambitious person.

Jungkook had been eighth in line for the Head out of 1,268 agents, a constant routine of clawing at every advantage and using every underhanded tactic he could get to get closer to the top, and he was almost there. But then he met you.

Your organization was versed in espionage and political affairs. Each and every person in the company was trained to be a human weapon. You all knew dozens of different fighting styles, hundreds of different languages, thousands of different types of poisons and when to use them. Your organization was rigid in structure and discipline, unlike Jungkook’s. The top stayed at the top and the agents were taught to kneel at their feet, punished if they ever bent out of line. You were nothing but tools, and were reminded of that constantly, made to think of yourselves as worthless disposable weapons, even though a single one of you could render a nation’s government to pieces. Your organization worked closely with officials who wanted more power, and framed and killed people who were in their way without leaving a trace, making the most brutal murders seem like accidents. You were one of Jackal’s top shadow puppets, and you liked it that way.

Until you met Jungkook. After the organizations realized how much of a threat they were to each other, they talked their agents with getting rid of other at every opportunity. You and Jungkook were specially assigned to each other, you skills making you an equal match, and the best equipped to handle each other. You often ran into each other on missions where your organizations fought over the same target. But something about him kept you from killing him. You don’t know why, but when you looked into his eyes the first time, you couldn’t complete your extra objective. You had never failed an order, you usually completed them in record time. You would call ordinarily call failing to complete an order a defect, but now, years later, you were sure it was a blessing. You and Jungkook danced around each other on missions, fighting but not hurting, teasing but never threatening. You quickly grew fond of each other, and even bonded over your shared struggles.

Jimin hummed to himself as he thumbed through your file, eyes scanning the papers. He idly swiveled in place while sitting in Namjoon’s fancy desk chair, one foot propped up on the desk.

Normally he wouldn’t go through the effort of reading a file. It wasn’t usually any of his business. Files were raw information, data gathered by Yoongi that Namjoon used to craft a mission. Whatever they needed to know, Namjoon would tell them.

But Jimin was curious. It was a weird feeling honestly, almost new with how long it had been. For so long he had been bored. Content, but bored. Bangtan was successful and feared and money had been flowing in almost nonstop. They owned half of downtown, and basically controlled the rest due to their surrounding allies following their every order. They had a monopoly on trade, and had squads full of adoring henchman to take care of any opponents. Everything was perfect, and it was boring.

In the years after Jungkook left, they’d had nothing but luck, and Jimin hated every second of it. Jungkook was a breath of fresh air, he brought light and laughter to the house and fun to their lives that they didn’t have before him. And when he left, he took all of that with him as well, and it was worse knowing how much happier they could be— how much happier they had been— with him there.

For a long while, they tried to pretend they were fine with him being gone. They were fine with an empty seat at the table instead of him pouting for them to feed him from their plates, they were fine without him running around and laughing and bumping things over, they were fine with some peace and quiet while they worked instead of him talking their ear off. Really, he was annoying, he was needy, he was clingy— he was far more work than than he was worth. He was definitely the most demanding pet they had ever had to entertain. And yet, their lives had never been so miserable without him.

Finding him again after he left was easy. But you were an unforeseen variable. Jimin could still feel the way his blood boiled when he saw you. A part of him thought Jungkook would be a wreck without them, he was always clinging to them in the manor, how could he ever live away from them after needing their attention for so long? But instead, he was off in the woods, happily playing house with you. How could he be happy when they were suffering?

But Jimin remembered, under all the rose tinted memories of the happiest days with Jungkook, there were bad days. Days where he would mope around, days where no one would spare him attention, days where they would snap at him out of irritation, days where he would get jealous. Before, Jimin never understood his jealousy. Of course they loved him, he was the one they kept around most, even if they paid attention to others. They proposed to him even, of course they wanted him around forever.

But, seeing the closeness between you and him, Jimin now understands just what that kind of jealousy feels like.

He tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully, staring down at the polished mahogany surface. Knowing you though, seeing you interact with Jungkook and the rest of the boys in the time you’ve been here, Jimin can’t help but think. You had skill, plenty of it. In the time you’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but prove it. While you irritated him, something else in him flared back to life seeing you in action. The way you moved and fought was so precise, so calculated, so deadly and yet beautiful he couldn’t help but be enraptured by it. He had never encountered so much power in anybody besides him and his loves. Even some of Bangtan couldn’t compare to your ability.

Maybe they had been thinking about all wrong.

Jimin blinked, coming out of his thoughts from an approaching sound. He could hear the footsteps and smiled to himself, sitting up straight in the chair as he waited for the person to enter. Namjoon pushed the door open, stepping into the room and stopping in the doorway in slight shock at the sight of Jimin. “What are you doing in here?” He asked, suspiciously eying the file ahead in front of him.

“Aw, c’mon Joonie. I can’t pay you a visit?” He faux pouted, but Namjoon only narrowed his eyes, more suspicious. “Okay, okay, fine. I was looking over our new pet’s file.” Jimin sighed dramatically, standing from the chair and picking up the file, moving to slip it back into the file cabinet.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at Jimin’s sudden interest. “Why? What were you looking for?” He asked, moving to sit down in his chair.

Jimin walked back to him, perching on the arm of his chair, slumping against Namjoon. “Well, for one, I was looking for details on her abilities. And, for leverage.” He sent Namjoon a sly smile.

“Leverage?” Namjoon tilted his head, not really following.

“I’ve been noticing some things about her. Like, the fact that she’s much more cooperative than someone’s whose been kidnapped ought to be.” Jimin trailed his fingers along Namjoon’s collar, feeling the fine thread of his suit as he spoke.

“Of course she’s being cooperative. We aren’t giving them a choice.” Namjoon replied, pulling out a notebook and pen, arranging his desk back to the way he liked it since Jimin had pushed his stuff out of the way.

“That’s different. It’s not like she’s doing the bare minimum. She’s interested, maybe even invested, in helping us.” Jimin responded, sitting up, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point.

“She wants to see the organizations crumble as much as we do.” Namjoon reasoned.

“So does Jungkook, but he’s not giving us input on mission or helping us torture hostages.” Jimin retorted.

Namjoon sighed, resigned, looking straight at Jimin as he asked for an explanation. “What are you saying?”

Jimin rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “I’m saying that our new pet might have a bit of a perfectionist streak. She wants to help us because a part of her, albeit small, wants to impress us. She puts up a cute fight, but she always listens to us in the end.”

Namjoon looked at him intently, thinking on what he said for a moment, then turned back to fixing his desk, shaking his head. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

“Think about it, Joon. No one told her to get Taehyung’s flashdrive. No one told her to save me, but she rushed to my side when I got shot. When we were splitting up roles for the mission, she insisted on joining and said that she was skilled enough to handle it.” Jimin rattled off, counting the instances on his fingers. “She could’ve sat back this whole time if she didn’t want to help us, but she does.”

Namjoon listened as Jimin spoke, tapping a pen in his hand against the table. “Alright. So, you think she’s eager to please. So what?”

Jimin smiled, a wicked curve to his lips. “So, I’m saying we use this to our advantage. We give her some rewards for helping us, a couple gentle pushes in the right direction, and not only will we have her as a little puppet, but Jungkook won’t have any reason to resist us either. He’s holding back because of her, I can sense it.”

Namjoon was still giving him a dubious look, so he continued, huffing. “Listen, I’m never wrong about these things. We just need to start small, and soon she’ll be putty in our hands.” Jimin eyes cut into teasing slits, smiling again. “And stop acting like you don’t like the idea. It’s so obvious that you’re fond of her already. Don’t you like the thought of a cute little baby doll around the house?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being completely professional about this.” Namjoon denied, turning back to the desk and starting to write nonsense in the notebook.

“Right. And that’s why you let her sass Jin and give input on missions.”

“She has a lot of good ideas, it’d be inefficient to ignore them.”

“Sure,” Jimin teased, pinching his cheek. Namjoon chuckled, raising a hand to bat it away, when the door creaked again, you peeking in. Jimin didn’t hear any footsteps this time, a fact that surprised him. He knew the walking patterns of everyone in this house, but as he thought about it, he couldn’t recall if he’d ever even heard yours. You just get more and more interesting, he thought to himself.

“Joon?” You called into the room, peeking through the crack of the door. You moved to step in, then stopped after noticing Jimin inside as well. “Oh, if you’re busy I’ll go.”

“You’re fine, pet. Come in.” Jimin cooed encouragingly, before you could run out, and you timidly stepped inside, eyeing him like he’d jump at you.

“What is it?” Namjoon asked patiently, with none of the usual bite he’d have when he was talking to one of their underlings who barged into his office. Jimin struggled to hold back a smile, he was always right about these things.

You stood tall, demanding, “I need a new suit for the up coming mission. I tore mine in the last one, and it was too tight anyways.”

“We’ll find you another one.” Namjoon agreed, and you nodded, but stood there a second longer as if there was something else you wanted to say, fidgeting in place.

Jimin smirked. He could guess what this was about. You had been eyeing his and Hoseok‘s customized suits last time, and a professional like yourself was probably used to more high quality material. “You know, pet, if you do extra good for us on this next mission, you might even get a special custom suit like the ones we have.” He purred.

Your eyes sparkled at that, even if the rest of your face didn’t betray your excitement. Bingo. You nodded with the type of forced calm people had when trying not to outwardly celebrate. “Okay.” You said simply, turning and leaving, Jimin glimpsing a hint of a smile as you face away from them.

“Huh.” Namjoon said, staring at the door after she left. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Jimin replied smugly. “She has a big ego. But we can use that to our advantage.”

Maybe the only issue with Jungkook being their pet before was that they needed another one to keep him company.

—

Yoongi wasn’t the fighting type.

Well, not exactly. While he wasn’t the type to throw a punch, he was absolutely the type to be sniping from the rooftop, steady and almost clinical in his aim. He was the type to be cynical even in the most positive of situations, the type to throw your words back in your face when arguing, the type to hang back and watch you make a fool of yourself and then laugh. He was the annoying, high and mighty, holier-than-thou type, and he had always been that way. It was funny to watch people fail, and even funnier that he had never failed at anything himself. His whole life he had been a genius, and always did everything better than the next guy. He was perfect and calculating.

He had never been tripped up by anything, until he met Jeon Jungkook.

When they found him, Jungkook was a skinny little shrimp, scared of his own shadow. He was scared of them for a long while, until he realized they weren’t trying to hurt him and then he clung to their backs every second of the day, using them like a personal shield for his anxieties. They knew he had potential, everyone does, it just takes a certain mindset to drag it out of them. They taught Jungkook how to defend himself by throwing him into the deep end and he came out better and stronger for it, rising above his fears and becoming more confident each day they spent with him.

Jungkook was full of surprises. While they had had pets and guests before, Jungkook was the most permanent, and Yoongi can still remember the way it threw him for a loop when he realized— when they all realized— they actually had developed a— somewhat twisted— form of love for the boy they had taken in. He was more than entertainment, he was cute bunny smiles and uncontrollable laughter. He thrived under the attention they gave him and begged for more with no shame. He quickly became comfortable and sassy and when he came out of his shell, he spent every moment making them happy.

Yoongi can still remember the first time Jungkook made him laugh because it was the first he had laughed at all in a long while. That was what tripped Yoongi up. The feelings Jungkook could pull out of him. All his life he had perfected the art of emotion. He knew how to control it, how to keep his cool in situations, and suddenly this kid came along and made him laugh with every stupid question, letting out snorts and chuckles that Jungkook insisted were cute, with that same wide bunny smile on his face. Cute. He’d never been called that before.

And it made it even worse when Jungkook had left. No one smiled for a long time after that. Everything felt off kilter, askew, like gun with a sticky trigger. The sudden loss of joy in their life was sticking to their every thought, and they had to push past the emotions to function even semi-normally.

Yoongi knew that Jungkook hated the parties. Honestly, if the others guys weren’t so dense when it came to other people’s emotions, maybe they’d have noticed too. He hated the parties himself. They were always too loud, with too many people with too much skin showing trying to get close to him. The only reason he ever came out of his room for them instead of locking himself inside was the way Jungkook would glue himself to his side. The younger man probably thought he was being subtle, they way he would casually lay himself across their laps, talk louder, flirt harder, and generally try to compete for their attention even more than he usually did, trying to be more interesting than the other people in the room. It almost hurt seeing the way the look on his face would desperate and pained when the other boys would push him away, hardly sparing him a glance. But then he cuddle up into Yoongi’s side, small and shy again and Yoongi would play with his hair, and they’d be in their own world again, ignoring everyone outside of their little bubble.

Yoongi could see the signs before he left. The other boys just saw it as cute rebellion, but Yoongi could see the way he would withdraw with every argument, emotionally, physically, mentally, not coming out of his room at all sometimes. And he couldn’t blame him. When he escaped, Yoongi knew. He saw him through the security cameras, jumping down from his bedroom window and running. He was supposed to report that sort of thing to Namjoon or Jin, but he made the excuse that he was hungry and went to the kitchen for some tangerines, “accidentally” turning off the cameras and alarms outside Jungkook’s bedroom.

The boys were furious naturally, in the way that people are when they don’t see how their own mistakes lead to their own misfortune. They tracked him down quickly but didn’t go after him, wanting to wait until he crawled back. They continued on with life as normal, but it wasn’t.

Jimin quickly grew tired of parties, grew tired of everything. He snapped at everyone who spoke to him, and eventually people stopped coming over for parties, and he stopped inviting them, moping around the house and whispering about how Jungkook would’ve loved the color of the sky or whatever random thing reminded him of the younger man that day. Namjoon grew quieter, he was always a quiet man, but he became distrustful of others around him, taking on more and more of the duties he usually relegated to others until they were essentially doing everything themselves. Jin was always on the phone calling people and asking about him, always tracking Jungkook’s every movement. When Jungkook was on a mission and off the grid, it was obvious in the way Jin’s shoulders would bunch tight and tense, and he would pace around the house anxiously. Hoseok was constantly training, but it only frustrated him more since Jungkook was his favorite training partner. Yoongi could always hear the thud of him beating the punching bags, hitting hard enough to almost knock them off the chains. Taehyung had always been introspective but now he was far more withdrawn, he and Jungkook were incredibly close and part of Yoongi thinks he probably blames himself for Jungkook’s leaving in a way. He wasn’t always into technology, but after Jungkook left, Taehyung asked Yoongi more about hacking and tracking, likely to try and pinpoint Jungkook’s location for himself.

And now, having him back was weird, because it was almost like old times. If Yoongi let himself zone out, he could almost believe nothing has changed. But there were plenty of changes. Yoongi could hear Jungkook’s voice again, but it was deeper, more experienced. He wasn’t the same cute kid they had all spoiled. He was toughened by life alone, and he was angry.

“Even after all this time, you’re still so similar to before,” Yoongi mused as he turned away from his computer, spinning his chair to face his bedroom door. “So why are you acting like I don’t already know you’re there?” He called out into the hallway and waited.

Jungkook slowly stepped into view, eyes everywhere but Yoongi. He looked around his room, lingering on the things that had changed. “You finally got rid of that ugly vase.” He said by way of greeting, gesturing to the flowers in the corner. They were in a sleek silver vase, rather than the colorful clay one he used to have. He’d gotten rid of most colorful decor after Jungkook had left, his room becoming a monochrome wasteland.

“I vaguely remember you telling me to get it in the first place.” Yoongi raised a brow, and Jungkook scoffed.

“As a joke. Anyone with eyes could tell that thing needed to be destroyed in a fire.” He deadpanned, but Yoongi could hear the slight amusement in his voice.

Yoongi bit his lip to hold back a smile. “What do you want?”

Jungkook shrugged noncommittally, digging throuh drawers and snooping through his shelves. “Y/n’s getting ready for her mission debrief. Jin said I shouldn’t bother her.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “And you listened? I’m surprised you didn’t break the door down.”

“Y/n can handle herself. They won’t hurt if she’s valuable to the mission.” Jungkook said, but Yoongi knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“So why are you here?” He clarified his question, watching as the muscles in Jungkook’s back just slightly tensed, him freezing in place almost imperceptibly.

Jungkook looked at him over his shoulder, then at the open door. He walked over, closing the door silently then turned back to Yoongi, eyes glinting with determination.

“Uh oh, am I in trouble?” Yoongi joked dryly.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him, talking like Yoongi didn’t speak at all. “Why are you guys being so weird?”

“Huh?”

“What are you hiding? Why haven’t you thrown one of your stupid parties? Why are you doing work yourself instead of being lazy and making your expendables do it? Why don’t you have other pets keeping you company?” Jungkook rattled off question after question.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi said. Jungkook almost flinched at the sound of his name, plain and simple. No Jungkookie, no kookie-baby, just Jungkook. “Do you remember when we proposed?”

Yoongi asked the question with so much tenderness that it took them both by surprise, silence settling in the room like dust for a long moment. “I wish I didn’t.” Jungkook grumbled, looking away and kicking an empty water bottle that had been lying on the floor.

“We told you that you were like nothing we had ever seen before,” Yoongi stood from his chair, taking slow steps towards Jungkook as we spoke. “That you had given us new purpose for living, and that nothing had ever been so incredible as it had when you were with us. Did you think we were lying?” Yoongi was almost whispering the last few words, close enough to Jungkook that he had to look up to meet his eyes. The younger man had never been so tall before. Yoongi thought it suited him, him being tall was new, like his bravery, like his fury, like his independence.

Jungkook stared down at him, eyes still steely with the look he had when he was working hard to figure something out. “I don’t know. You guys lied about a lot of things.” He shrugged again, trying to maintain a casual air despite the heavy atmosphere.

“We never lied. We made mistakes, sure, but we never lied. You were more important to us than anything. We just lost sight of that for a while.” Yoongi explained, Jungkook immediately scoffing.

“And you expect me to believe that? How do I know this isn’t you just manipulating me? That you aren’t just saying whatever you can to make up for your past fuck ups?” His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, with no real heat behind it. Yoongi could tell he wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t muster up the emotion, not right now. He wanted answers more than he wanted to be angry.

You breathed in and out, calm and content just being this close to him again. “Because you know us. You know me. Only you can tell if we’ve truly changed. And if we are lying to cover our ass, you wouldn’t believe us anyways. Not until you see it for yourself. I don’t think you’re the type to be won over with praise anymore.”

Jungkook huffed, “It doesn’t matter. You kidnapped me and my love, and you’re forcing us to help you. And don’t think for a second that I actually believe you’ll just let us go after all this.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I’m sure you’d find a way out anyways. And we’re not making you do anything you didn’t already want to do. Chessman and Jackal have been a thorn in our sides, like Namjoon said, and they’ve been tracking you. If we get rid of them, you could go back to your cute little cottage and not worry about moving every two months.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, studying Yoongi’s calm countenance for a lie. Yoongi took the opportunity to look over him as well. His hair had grown longer and shaggier in the time they’d been apart, it was always a cropped bowl cut, with a cute fringe that hung over the forehead when he was with them. But now he could see the remnants of blue dye at the ends and wondered about that story, what made him want to dye it, if you encouraged him or if it had been a spur of the moment thing Jungkook surprised you with. He had a small scar on his cheek that Yoongi wanted to run his thumb over but didn’t, and one that cut through his eyebrow that Jungkook probably thought made him look cooler. He was always reckless that way, getting excited over battle scars like they were tattoos, which, Yoongi noticed, he also had trailing over his arms. He had a couple tattoos when he was with them but not so many, not so colorful and detailed. And his shoulders were broad in a way that would make even Jin jealous, and he stood tall in a way that made Yoongi swear that if he squinted he’d look just like Namjoon.

“You’ve barely done anything since we’ve gotten here.” Jungkook eventually said, expression still guarded. “The others have been angry but you’ve been acting like you don’t care at all. Even less than you normally do.”

“Maybe I just don’t.” Yoongi tilted his head.

“No. You’re pretending.” Jungkook called him out easily, batting the excuse away almost as soon as it came out of his mouth. “So, what? Do you hate Y/n too?”

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. Jungkook posed the question like it was meant be intimidating, like he wanted to make sure Yoongi wouldn’t try anything with you, but it almost seemed curious. Like he was asking for his opinion, or his approval.

“I think Y/n’s just as strong and crazy as you are, maybe more, but she holds back. But as far as the people you could’ve chosen to replace us with goes, I’m glad you found her. She suits you.” Yoongi replied honestly, seemingly more than Jungkook was expecting from the slight widening of his eyes.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him about how he was the one doing all the research on you when they first started going after you, and that he had dragged up an (almost) complete timeline of your life, all your highs and lows, the ways you dragged yourself out of the mud again and again and the way you watched over Jungkook fiercely ever since you’ve first met him.

He wouldn’t tell him about him about how Yoongi was immensely impressed by the way you fought and his eyes keep drifting your form in the security cameras in the mission when you saved Jimin.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him about how he thought it was cute when you argued with Jin and Hoseok, and how he could tell Namjoon had a soft spot for you already, or how he could feel one forming for you in himself.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him that under different circumstances they’d likely all be obsessing over you the same way they were with Jungkook, considering you seemed to be the exact kind of crazy Bangtan usually sought out in their pets.

And Yoongi especially wouldn’t tell him that he had never been angry at Jungkook, and never could be, even with you in the picture.

Jungkook eventually sighed, breaking the silence again, stepping back towards the door. “Well, that’s good enough I guess. One less enemy in this house.” He grumbled, seemingly done with his psuedo interrogation.

Yoongi spoke up again as Jungkook had just put his hand on the door, making him pause. “None of us are your enemies, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook walked out of the room, almost like he hadn’t heard Yoongi at all.

—

Hoseok brushed against you as he walked into the room, shoulder bumping into yours in a definitely purposeful movement. You eyed him as he passed, not letting him intimidate you.

He eyed you in turn, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Your suit fits better this time.” He commented, carelessly settling in a chair in the corner.

“Yup. And I’ll have a custom made that fits even better after this mission.” You smiled proudly. “But I’ll be able to outdo you in this one just fine.”

“You keep telling yourself that, pup.” Hoseok smiled with no warmth. “If you can make it through this mission without making any mistakes, I’ll take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you.” He responded, seemingly no faith in your abilities at all, though you were quite sure you had proved yourself already. No matter, you reassured yourself inwardly, just do well on this mission and they won’t be able to deny your skill ever again. You weren’t one to be under appreciated, and while you definitely didn’t care about what they thought about you as a person, you would make sure they knew your worth as a fighter.

“Get ready to eat your words then. I never make mistakes.” You replied, eyes cut into slits as you stared him down.

“Everyone slips up sometimes. And you’ve been a little too perfect lately.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes right back, the two of you glaring in the tense silence until the door opened.

Hoseok looked to the door, breaking eye contact first— which you counted as a small victory— as Namjoon walked in. “Just you today, Joonie?” Hoseok smiled easily, mood immediately sweeter at the sight of his love. He was always more smiley around the guys, you noticed, making it difficult for you to believe he was the same person sometimes. The same man who would glare at you was also the same man who would give his boyfriends the most tender stares and touches, soft and gentle like they’d break, and not like they were kings of the underground.

Namjoon hummed in response, opening the file. “This mission isn’t as serious. Simple recon, you get Warner in, he does the dirty work, and then you bring him back.”

Warner, still currently in the “dungeon” as Jungkook called it, was going to pose as your puppet. Bangtan would give him a couple crates of valuable supplies that he “stole” and let him barter with the informant he was meeting for information and a possible position in the organization. Since he was able to bargain with them, you assumed it was an agent of Chessman— Jungkook’s old organization— who he was meeting, but you weren’t yet sure, and it was better to prepare for every eventuality anyways. The thought that you might be seeing a familiar face form your organization tonight was both nerve wracking and blood boiling.

“So all we have to do is watch and don’t be detected.” Hoseok nodded after listening to Namjoon explain the objectives, then sent a sidelong glance at you. “Think you can handle that, puppy?”

“I’m a master at stealth. This will be a piece of cake.” You boasted.

“You certainly have a great sense of pride.” Namjoon commented almost thoughtfully.

“Of course it is. I’ve worked hard, and that deserves to be recognized.” You said, glaring at Hoseok as you put an emphasis on the last half of your words.

“Of course,” Namjoon said again, almost to himself. The closed the file in front of him and moved for the door, leading you all out. “Let’s go retrieve our prisoner then.”

—

As Hoseok sat in the backseat of the car next to you and a squirming Warner, he thought about how he’d rather be doing anything else. He hated this. He hated you for suggesting this mission. Honestly, Hoseok hated you for a lot of reasons.

One, you took Jungkook away from them. If it wasn’t for you, Hoseok wouldn’t be down a sparring partner, and their lives wouldn’t have been so miserable. Jungkook would’ve been happy when they found him again and they could’ve made it up to him for all the tough times before and be living happily ever after.

Two, Jungkook was in love with you. Not only had he moved on after leaving them, but he had given his heart to another person. He had laughed and cried and touched you, and you had comforted him and made him feel better and made him fall in love with you. Jungkook chose you, unlike how they were the ones to find him. And now because he was in love with you, he would likely never choose them over you ever again.

Three, he had to watch Jungkook be in love with you. He had to watch the stupid happy looks on your faces when you held hands, or kissed, or just looked at each other because you were so in love that you just couldn’t see the others face without breaking into a smile. Jungkook used to look at them like that. But now, he was like that with you. It was disgustingly sweet and made him want to punch a wall every time he saw it.

There were plenty of other petty reasons Hoseok couldn’t stand you, but most of all, he hated how much you reminded him of Jungkook. It was impossible to say that you and Jungkook weren’t perfect for each other. You had the same sense of same sense of humor as each other, the same focused look when you would go into a mission, the same mannerisms whether it was loading a gun or dusting off your suit, everything you did had Jungkook sewn into it and he hated it. He hated seeing echoes of someone he loved in someone else. He hated the way you would bicker with Jin, because that’s what Jungkook used to do. He hated the way you would volunteer to help with missions, because that’s what Jungkook used to do. He hated the way you walked, the way you talked, the way you breathed, because all of it was a reminder that you spent time with Jungkook while they were all losing their minds wishing for him to come back.

Warner bumped into his shoulder for the fortieth time in the last ten minutes and Hoseok snapped, grabbing the rope around his neck and pulling as he growled. “How does a man who’s tied up move so goddamn much?”

Warner didn’t answer him, because he had a piece of tape over his mouth, but instead stared up at him frightfully. He was tied up still, because Hoseok didn’t believe he wouldn’t just try to run as soon as they got outside, rope around his wrists, elbows, knees and ankles for good measure. The rope around his neck was just for intimidation factor, for moment like this where Hoseok needed something to grab and pull.

“We’re almost there, just avoid hurting our hostage before we get to the rendezvous point.” You rolled your eyes and Hoseok huffed, shoving Warner into you. You shoved him back more towards the center, ignoring the muffled groan Warner let out as you both irritated his bruises from your previous “discussion” with him in the basement.

Jin was driving the car, quiet for most of the ride as he sensed the tension between you two. He glanced into the rear view, seeing the both of you with arms crossed and looking out the windows like siblings on a road trip they didn’t ask for and sighed in relief as you slowly got closer to the destination. “Just remember to be careful. We don’t have sights on you for this one, so make sure to watch your corners and lead Warner back here as soon as the meeting’s over.”

“We got it, babe.” Hoseok said as the car rolled to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse, dark with overgrown plants creeping up the sides. “I’ll keep the puppy in line.” He said as he climbed out.

“I’m not a puppy! And I don’t need to watched.” You hissed, getting out your side and taking a wooden crate out of the trunk.

“Whatever.” Hoseok snapped back, grabbing Warner from the backseat and slinging him over his shoulders like he was a bag of marshmallows.

Jin did not feel any confidence in your ability to watch each other’s backs, but waved you both off anyways, saying good luck and moving his car to a more hidden spot until the two of you were finished.

You crept up to the side of the building as quietly as possible, the people Warner was here to meet were likely already inside, waiting. They told him to come alone, so you needed to get him and inside and make yourselves scarce. Hoseok propped him up against the wall, undoing the ropes and then ripping the tape off of his mouth, ignoring his squeal at the pain.

You shoved the wooden crate into his arms, not giving him a moment to recover. It was full of random ammunition and weapons, things Wanrer could use to barter with the informant. “Remember: these are the supplies you ‘stole’ from Bangtan during your raid. Try to trade them for information we could use or, most preferably, a position on the inside of the organization. Don’t mess this up.” You threatened, stressing the last sentence with a dire seriousness, watching Warner’s eyes widen at your intensity.

“I— I remember, I swear.” He squeaked and you nodded, stepping back.

“Good. Now go.” Hoseok pushed him towards the direction of the entrance, making him stumble over over his own feet, and the two of you watched him walk inside, making sure he wouldn’t run.

“Now, we just have to get inside.”

“What’re you talking about? There no way we can get in without being noticed, it’s an empty warehouse.” Hoseok eyed you dubiously. “It’s just wide open space, they’ll see us instantly.”

“Places like this usually have a lot of vents and ducts on the ceiling. If we can get up top, we can climb in through one and sit up in the rafters unseen.” You replied, pulling a grappling gun fork your tool belt.

“That’s stupid. What if we make too much noise, or fall?” He critiqued.

“Just don’t.” You said, rolling your eyes. You shot the gun up to the roof, watching it catch on the edge. You gave it a couple test pulls to test the stability. “Look, you can stay out here if you want, but I’m going in.”

“Fine.” Hoseok huffed. “Give me that, I don’t trust you not to drop us.” He held out his hand for the grappling hook and you pulled back.

“And I’m supposed to believe you won’t drop me?”

“Do you want to get in, or just stay out here and argue?”

“Fine.” You acquiesced, handing him the gun, and he wrapped his arm around your back, holding you tight as he let it pull both up to the top of the building.

To Hoseok’s surprise, you both made it in easily, popping open a grate on a vent that came out the top of the building, crawling in and navigating through the vents until you were close enough to hear conversation, coming upon another grate you could see the meeting through. Quietly, you pulled up the grate, and stared down into the room.

As you looked in on the scene, you saw they had already started talking. The informant was dressed in a white suit, crisp and clean. He spoke in a monotone voice, sounding almost bored as he spoke with Warner, who in contrast, was sweating bullets.

Warner’s voice cut into your ear as he spoke, voice lowering so much that you had to strain to hear them. “Listen, I know what we came here for, but I figured, before you get your stuff, you could help me out.” He whispered conspiratorially to the agent.

“What is he saying?” You murmured to yourself, anxiety chilling your body. This didn’t sound like any of the things you outlined for Warner to say. He was going way off script.

“Help you how?” The agent asked, confusion marring their clinical and smooth tone. Clearly whatever Warner was saying was throwing them for a loop as well.

“I was captured by Bangtan, I’ve got two of their agents trailing me right now, they’re osmewhere here, if you help me get rid of them—“

“That dumbass! He’s ratting us out. I told you he wasn’t shit but you just couldn’t help but want to be right all the time!” Hoseok hissed at you, but you were just staring blankly down at the scene below you, as if in disbelief.

“You were compromised?” The rendezvous agent cut Warner off, professional air completely abandoned, replaced with worry and anger that Warner didn’t seem able to sense.

Warner nodded, a smile on his face as he realized the agent understood. He continued speaking more enthusiastically, as he pleaded the other agent for help. “Yeah, exactly! Listen man, you’ve gotta get rid them for me, they’re threatening my life—“

Bang! Warner’s body slumped lifelessly to the floor, and Hoseok felt his heart drop.

The agent had whipped out a small handgun, nailing Warner right between the eyes. He turned to the guards in the room, barking orders frantically. “Search the perimeter, make sure the agents he was talking about aren’t within range. Open fire if you see anyone unfamiliar, and shoot to kill.”

Hoseok sighed, “That idiot. Let’s get out of here before we get shot.”

You crawled forward in the vents silently, maneuvering yoursef over another grate directly above the men grouped in the middle of the room around the informant relaying commands. You pulled up the grate, deathly silent as you pulled out two handguns strapped to your belt, one in each hand. Hoseok did not like the look on your face.

“What are you doing? We should be heading towards the exit.” He repeated.

Your head raised, locking eyes with his. Your face was completely blank, but your eyes screamed with silent fury, so much so that Hoseok almost flinched. “I’m finishing this mission.” You replied, calm like the eye of a hurricane, then dropped down from the rafters like a hawk diving for its prey.

Hoseok watched in awe for a moment. It was clear the guards weren’t expecting you to come to them, and it was doubly clear that they hadn’t thought to look up, two of them going down just from the force of you landing on their necks, another three going down as you swiftly planted bullets in their backs, shooting before they even had the chance to turn around.

From his vantage point, Hoseok could see a squad of guards coming in through an exit on the far side of the room, sneaking up on you. He waited until they were under him to drop on top of them as well, hearing some bones snap as they broke his fall. For good measure, he shot them, then focused on making his way over to you and covering your back.

There weren’t many guards at all in the abandoned safe house, clearly they were only planning on having to subdue Warner and not getting followed by secret agents set on killing them all. You two cleared out the building quickly, you swirling a path of destruction through the guards and Hoseok cleaning up behind you. The room eventually feel silent, no more guards left to stop you, as your eyes searched your surroundings for any remaining threats. You heard shuffling and looked to see the informant, clean white suit now dirty, slowly crawling towards the door on his hands and knees.

Hoseok leveled a gun at him. “Oh no, you don’t—“

“Stop!” Your arm knocked into his, knocking his shot off course and making him hit his shoulder instead of his head. The informant cried out in pain, ignored by Hoseok who instead turned to glare at you.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to say some high and mighty shit about murder being wrong when we just cleared the house.” He rolled his eyes.

“Not at all.” You said, turning towards the agent who was now sniveling on the floor, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. You walked over to him, stepping on him and pushing him down in place with your foot. “We’re down an informant because he shot Warner. So he’ll be taking his place.”

The informant cried. “You— you won’t get away with this! You— you can’t—!”

You moved your foot over his bullet wound, pressing into it and twisting your foot. He cried out loudly then stopped abruptly, passing out from the pain. Once he stopped squeaking, you turned to Hoseok, cracking a smile that was weirdly innocent with the sprays of blood in your face.

“Carry him for me?”

Hoseok nodded, at a loss for words, stopping to sling the agent over his shoulder. He followed behind you as the two of you calmly walked out of the warehouse, no souls left to stop you. His blood thrummed strangely in his body, energy and adrenaline still pumping through his veins thinking of the ways you fought, alluring and dangerous. He was both impressed and terrified by your calmness, like you didn’t just enact your vengeance on a room of unsuspecting agents. Just thinking about it could still give him chills, seeing the content look on your face while you took them down with ease, like you weren’t affected by it at all. Your breathing had hardly changed after exerting yourself, like you had just taken a nice walk in the park. Hoseok wanted to know just how much of yourself you were hiding from them.

Hoseok thought you would hold them back, that you’d be a stick in the mud, but clearly, you did not like to play around. “No qualms about killing this time?” He asked, keeping his voice casual. “Jimin said you made a big fuss about killing on your last mission.”

“I don’t take kindly to having my operations jeopardized.” You said, in that all too calm voice, and Hoseok realized, oh, you weren’t calm at all actually. Looking closer he could see your hands shook and clenched into fists periodically, like you needed to punch something or scream, and your voice was hard with the effort of keeping venom out of your tone. You were angry. “Warner could’ve cost us everything. But he already got what he deserved.” You turned to look at Hoseok and the body slung over his shoulder, flashing a scary sweet smile over your shoulder. “But I think our new catch is even better.”

Hoseok shook his head in disbelief as you faced forward again. Looking at you now, he took back his earlier statement. What he hated most of all was how much he didn’t know about you.

—

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The Agreement (Austin Butler x Producer!Reader)

Okiiii here we go - my first smut. This was an experience whew. Okay, a few things. Firstly, I’ve chosen to fuck around with the age timeline here a bit. So, although I don’t mention it directly Austin is 30 here. Also, this has the potential to have a few more parts, not many, but a few so let me know if you’d be interested. Ans yes, yes I do suck at making GIFs but it is what it is. I need to extend my gratitude to @eu-whoria for all the smut writing tips thank yewwwww. Also, special mention to @presleysnotes my new bestie, here’s your homework reward.

Feedback is appreciated but please be gentle lmao. Other than that let me know if I’ve made any grammatical errors or any of that. And my requests are always open!

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT NUT!!! swearing, smoking, drinking, sub!Austin x dom!reader, morally grey subject matter, tiny bit of blood, handcuffs, blindfold, mentions of Brad Pitt (I think that’s it please let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: 3806

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Austin knew it was wrong, but he had been desperate. After dedicating basically his entire life to acting and still not catching a big break, he felt helpless. So, he did whatever it took to propel his career to stardom. He knew he was talented, hardworking and attractive, he just needed the right connection. It just so happened that you were that right connection.

Three years after your initial meeting, he was finally posing on the Cannes red carpet for the ‘Elvis’ premier. With you next to him.

Three Years Ago

It had been a long and gruelling day for you and it was only 5:30 in the evening. As a producer at Warner Bros., you spent the majority of your days in meetings with old men (they preferred the term ‘investors’ apparently) who thought you were nothing more than a pretty face although you had proven them wrong repeatedly by putting out blockbuster after blockbuster. You were a businesswoman, one at the top of her fucking game.

Today, you had spent the last two hours in a conference room trying to work through details for an upcoming Elvis biopic. The project had been approved by the higher ups and you were given free reign for the creative as well as business decisions for the film. But the ‘investors’ were under a misguided impression that they had a say in any of these decisions. The only thing they had agreed on so far was the involvement of Baz Luhrmann as the director. Other than that, all your ideas for the script, cast, crew, promo structure etc. were met with push back and bogus objections.

Your patience and sanity were hanging by a thread so naturally you lost it when your secretary decided to barge in and let you know that you were getting late for a social appointment, “Goddamn it, Jack! How many times have I told you not to disturb me during a meeting unless someone was fucking dying. Get out of my sight before I throw something at you.”

Okay so you had a temper, but you had earned it. You had worked your ass of since you were 19 to reach where you were. It paid off too, you were Warner Bros.’ youngest producer at only 26. Anyway, as Jack scurried out of the room you decided to remind the ‘investors’ who was really in charge.

You put your hands on the conference table to lean forward and say very quietly, “Now, I want to make sure everyone understands this - I don’t give a rat’s ass about who you are or how you reached this table but I know my job better than anyone else in this industry. I make the decisions here, not you. Everything I tell you from here on out about this project is just me being courteous and it is most definitely not up for two hour long discussions. Is that fucking clear?”

You stared them down as some of them slowly gulped and others nodded their heads. You straightened up and walked out of the room, oozing with confidence. When you got closer to your office, you caught site of Jack sniffling and dabbing his eyes. You rolled your eyes at the unprofessional display of sensitivity. I mean you weren’t even that mean.

“Make sure the car is ready to leave in 20 and for God’s sake clean yourself up.”

Being one of the most influential people at Warner Bros. came with a few advantages. Such as having a stretch limo at your disposal, an en suite bathroom in your office and also a personal stylist made available to you for social events like the one you were currently headed to. Your stylist, Marie, was more like you in the sense that she was one of the few capable people around who knew their job and stuck to it. This helped create a bond between the two of you, despite an age gap of almost a decade. Tonight, she chose to put you in a dress that made you feel so confident that you remember thinking to yourself, “Woah, I’d fuck me.”

Today’s social event was less of an ‘event’ and more of a party being hosted by your dear friend, Brad Pitt. He was currently in the pre-production phase of the new Quentin Tarantino film, a role he got after he asked you to call up Quentin and make a recommendation. It was just simple business.

When you finally reached his house and rung the bell, the door swung open to a slightly wobbly Brad, “Y/NNNNN! So glad you could make it. Come on in, I’ve got some people who’ve been dying to meet ya.” So, he took you around the room and introduced you as ‘the big shot producer.’ You watched people’s expression change from disinterest to admiration. 

It was common for people to change their behaviour around you in the hopes that you would take notice and cast them in one of your films. Unfortunately, it didn’t work that way but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the special treatment. It made you feel powerful and in control.

“You’re an awful host, Pitt. I’ve been here for like 20 minutes now and you haven’t even offered me a drink, yet. I am seriously not in the mood for anymore work talk for the rest of the night. It’s been a long day as it is.”

“Oh shit, sorry, my bad. But you just gotta meet one last person then you can get as wasted as you want. Y/N this kid’s work ethic is fucking insane and he has so much raw talent. He got me kinda jealous for a minute but I couldn’t even bring myself to hate him. He’s gonna be working on the new Quentin Tarantino.” His eyes scanned the room for only a second before raising his hand and yelling, “Yo Butler! Austin! Come here a second.”

You watched the head of jet black hair perk up and turn around. The closer he came, the more you realised that you had never seen a man as beautiful as him. He belonged in a fucking art museum. But, you had a reputation to maintain, so instead of blushing when you made eye contact with his electric blue eyes, you stood up with you head high. You made sure your dress was fanned out to show the thigh high slit and arched your back just a little to do your boobs a favour.

“Mr. Pitt,” he gave Brad a firm handshake, “Fantastic party, sir.”

In that moment, you were sure you had experienced your first ever eargasm.

“How many times do I gotta tell ya to just call me ‘Brad.’ Anyway, it’s alright you’ll get it right someday.” You watched the brunette’s eyes sparkle like a fucking Disney prince when he smiled at Brad’s comment. “I’d like to introduce you to Y/N L/N. She’s the producer at Warner and I believe she’s had a long day so get her a drink, kid.”

You had extended your hand for a handshake but he tenderly brought your hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles - all gentlemen like, “Austin Butler. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Something absolutely feral stirred in you at the title he had used.

You were quick to pull your hand back and say, “Well, aren’t you sweet?”

His cheeks flushed with the most enchanting blush you had ever seen. Your mind immediately thought about how that pretty pink colour would probably extend to his chest as you ride hi-

“What would you like to drink?” You could have imagined it, but you thought you saw his eyes flick down to your wine coloured lips for a brief moment. Once you told him what you wanted, he walked away from you to get it and you found yourself ogling his ass in those dress pants. As he walked back to you with the drinks in his hand, you could feel his eyes drinking you in from head to toe and this time you knew you hadn’t imagined it.

After a few minutes of small talk and drinking you could finally feel the stress of the day catching up with you and the knots in you shoulder screamed for a cigarette. “I’m just going to step out for a quick smoke,” you announced.

“Let me get you another drink and I’ll join you...i-if that’s okay I mean?” he fumbled over his words. You nodded your head to indicate that it was, in fact, okay.

You slipped out into the empty balcony and opened your clutch finding your cigarette pack. You took one out and put it between your lips and started looking for a lighter but you couldn’t see it. For fuck’s sake, you were going to strangle Jack, he was responsible for prepping your clutch.

Just when you were about to give up, you heard a click and looked up. Austin stood in front of you with his lighter flared up and said in his velvety low voice, “Allow me, ma’am.” So you took a step closer to him, perhaps closer than you need to be, and leaned in cupping the flame with your hand as you stayed still for a second to let the tip of the cigarette catch the flame. Then, you took a long drag and tilted your head up so that you would exhale the smoke right at him.

You heard his breath get caught in his chest. You smirked to yourself and it was only when you walked away that he exhaled. You leaned over the railing with your drink and cigarette in hand as Austin lit up his own cigarette. He walked over and leaned next to you. Close enough that both of your upper arms were touching. 

You took another drag and asked, “So, tell me Austin, why is it that I have never heard of you before?”

He was taken aback for a second, then chuckled and explained his entire career trajectory - right from his humble Disney beginnings to the latest Tarantino role. You noticed that the calibur of his roles had only increased with time but he hadn’t quite gotten to the big break. Maybe it was about time for that, you thought to yourself.

“I just feel like I’m stuck you know? Of course, I’m very grateful for everything I’ve been able to do so far but it just hasn’t been what I want it to be. It seems like such a waste but somewhere, deep down, I know that given the opportunity, I can be great.” Although he wasn’t looking at you, there was a dangerous gleam evident in his eyes. Almost like a hunger. But, it only lasted a second before he cracked a charming smile and changed the topic, returning to his formal tone, “Anyway, forget about it. I know you don’t want to talk about work tonight, ma’am.”

“You know, I think you’re older than me. You shouldn’t be calling me that,”

“Really? How old are you?”

“26″

He let out a low whistle, “Wow, you must be one of the youngest producers around.”

“The youngest ever at Warner.”

“And that’s why I will continue to call you that. It ain’t about the age. You’ve earned the respect...ma’am.”

He was still looking at the view rather than at you and something in you fluttered at his acknowledgement of your hard work. You started looking at his side profile attentively. The strong jaw, the high cheek bones, the pouty pink lips. He was star material, in fact, you were surprised that he hadn’t been picked up yet.

Suddenly, in your mildly inebriated state a thought crossed your mind and before you could stop yourself you were dragging your perfectly manicured finger across his cheek to turn his head to you, “You’re right, Austin. You can be great. I’m going to make you greater than you could ever dream. But only if you and I could come to an agreement.”

“Wh-what kind of agreement, ma’am?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it so you decided to just show him instead. You leaned up and give him a chaste lingering kiss. You felt him pull back so he could look into your eyes. Confident as ever, you held his gaze and could see the gears turning behind those dazzling blues that shone despite the low lighting of the party.

A beat later, he had moved so that your body was trapped between his and the balcony railing. One of his, rather large, hands was on your hip and the other was on your cheek pulling your lips to his.

This kiss was different. It was desperate and hungry, almost like he was trying to show you his ambition through the kiss. But it wasn’t messy, it was slow, deep, calculated. The hand on your hip had travelled down to give your ass a harsh squeeze. A little yelp parted your lips and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in and massage yours with it.

It looked like you were losing a dominance battle and you felt the need to take back some control. You moved one of your hands to give his hair a sharp tug. He let out a sinful moan against your lips and you felt him roll his hips against you. You pulled again, this time to break the kiss. You were both panting like dogs and you said, “We’re leaving.” He nodded enthusiastically.

Soon enough you guys were in the back of your stretch limo. You told the driver to take you home and put the partition between him and you up. Immediately, Austin’s hands were on you and they were everywhere. The long and deep kisses had turned into quick pecks on your lips, cheek, jaw and neck till he found the spot that made you dig your nails into his thigh. He sucked on that spot hard enough to make you mewl. You carded your hand through his hair and heard him suck in a breath.

“You like when I play with your hair, baby?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You made sure to keep that in mind for later at night. You dragged your hand from his thigh to the bulge in his pants. You just ran your fingertips over it and felt the car lurch to a stop. You were both out of the car in a flash. 

The elevator ride to your penthouse was spent making out like you were a bunch of horny teenagers. Once you were finally in your house, both of you kicked off your shoes and he looked like he was ready to attack you again. But before he could you put a hand on his chest.

“Woah boy, slow down there. We have all night. Take off your jacket and go sit on that couch. Oh, and don’t touch yourself till I’m back.”

He nodded and fast walked to the couch. Meanwhile, you sauntered over to your room and took off your dress, adjusting your lingerie underneath, silently thanking Marie for making you wear Victoria’s Secret tonight. 

You opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a few things to take with you to the living room.

You found him sitting in his all black glory, a wonderful contrast against your white couch, his legs spread, arms splayed against the back of the couch and his face was turned up to the ceiling with his eyes closed. He heard the clicking of your heels and opened his eyes.

He whispered, “Fuck,” and brought one of his hands up to tug his lower lip between his thumb and index finger. He took in the swell of your breasts and ass, feeling desperate to take the curves in his hands but, at the same time, he felt like he couldn’t move without your permission. He noticed a few things that you brought from the room kept on the coffee table.

“Did you touch yourself, baby?”

“No ma’am”

“Good boy”

Austin felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had always been the dominant one during sex with past partners. This time he felt completely at your mercy and he was loving every second of it.

You straddled his hips and kissed him, hard. Taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting it, tugging at it so that when you let it go it made a ‘pop’ sound. You smiled to yourself when you saw the little bit of blood where you had bit his lip. You kissed him again, making sure to lick up the blood, and you felt him buck his hips up over and over again. He let out a couple of heavenly whines to let you know how bad he wanted you.

“Pleaaaase,” he whined.

“Please what baby?”

“Please need more ma’am,” bucking his hips again.

“Aw come on you can beg better than that.”

“Please please please. Need to be in you so bad, ma’am. Want you to own me, please ma’am.”

“Oh, I own you alright,” you ripped his shirt open and heard the clatter of buttons flying everywhere.

You were very slowly, almost negligibly, moving your hips in circles against him. You put your mouth next to his ear, licked the shell and said, “Now, you gotta tell me if at any point, any point at all, you want me to stop. Just the word and we’ll stop. Do you understand, baby boy?” He nodded again.

You sat back to look at his face, “No baby, I need to hear you say it.”

Your index finger ran from his bottom lip, down his chin and your nail lightly scratched his Adam’s apple. As soon as you did that, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, indicating that he swallowed harshly, “Yes ma’am, I understand.”

“Such a good boy. Put your arms behind your back.”

You pick up the silver metal handcuffs you had brought from the room and cuffed his wrists together. Then you picked up the black satin scarf from the same place, carefully folding it and tying it around his eyes as a blindfold. You felt his breathing pick up. You stood up from his lap and took in the delectable sight before you. Only wearing his black dress pants, chest heaving up and down, blindfolded, handcuffed and waiting for you.

You get down on your knees, between his legs and keep your palms on his knees. You shift a little and nuzzle your nose against his straining cock. His hips shoot up, making you smile. You decided to let him catch a break and took his pants and boxers off, discarding them to the side. His hard dick sprung up against his stomach, precum already leaking from the red tip. You touched only the tip with your middle finger to pick up the liquid bead.

“Hnghhh aahh,” 

You laughed at his reaction and cooed, “My poor baby, so desperate for me.”

You put the finger in your mouth and hummed at the taste. This time you wrapped your hand around his length and jerked him off as hard as you could. At this point he was basically screaming for you. His body thrashing around uncontrollably. The loss of sight and touch heightened every other sensation for him. But you wanted him to come while he was inside you so you stopped your actions. Grabbing the last item from the coffee table, a condom that you tore open and slid on his cock.

You stood up again and took your panties off. Once again, you straddled him and asked, “Ready?”

“Yes ma’am please wanna cum so bad.”

You lifted your hips and started taking him in inch by inch. His pink lips hung open and you just couldn’t stop yourself from kissing those lips. You had to take a second to adjust because, at this angle and with his size, he was so deep that you thought you could feel him in your gut.

You started out with grinding against him. However, as your pace got faster, your hands came up to his hair again and tugged them hard. His teeth were bared in a way that kind of reminded you of a wolf and he was grunting every time your hips came down. Soon enough you couldn’t stop the moans from tumbling out of your mouth. 

“Please ma’am need to see you. Need to look at your pretty eyes to cum.”

Your hands went around his head and undid the blindfold. There they were, those blues that had turned a few shades darker because of the intense lust. He let out a high pitched moan as your pussy clenched around him. After a couple more minutes he had planted his feet firmly on the ground and began thrusting up into you as your hips came down. You had never felt pleasure like this.

It was your turn to let out a loud, “Aaaah God- fuck Austin so good. So fucking. Good. For me.” The last few words accentuated with rough thrusts.

“Fuck ma’am, I’m close so clo- fuck bout to bust. Ple-please let me come.”

You felt right on edge too and said, “Cum baby, cum for me. Only for me.”

His hips left the couch to thrust up into you for the last time as his back arched. His head fell against the back of the couch and you could see his abs twitch every few seconds as he released into the condom. The sounds that left him pushed you over, to your end. Your forehead came in contact with his muscled shoulder as both of you spent a couple of minutes just taking in as much oxygen as you could.

He broke the silence, “Wow”

You laughed and got off his lap, throwing away the condom and using the key to unlock the handcuffs. His wrists has turned an alarming red against his otherwise pale complexion so you gave each wrist a small peck.

“Does it hurt? Should I get some ice packs?”

“Oh no I’m alright.”

“And what about your lip? Are you okay? Was it too mu-”

He stood up and cupped your cheeks with his unfairly long fingers, “I’m alright I promise. It was mind blowing. Let’s just go to bed.” His eyes shifted down and he cockily added, “Your legs are shaking.”

“Shut up”

You led him to the bedroom and both of you got in the plush bed. He pulled you to him so your head was on his chest. You let out a yawn and said, “I’m taking you to the Warner offices tomorrow.”

Austin felt his heart drop but before he could even say anything you had drifted off to sleep.

So Part 2 anyone?

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[hedgehog-moss]

what are your favorite books in terms of prose? curious after you wrote about how many modern writers lack a sense for good writing, which i’ve also felt for years. so who do you think writes especially beautifully :-)

(Warning: long post ahead pondering what is perceived as beautiful prose in English vs French!)

The first books that came to my mind are the ones listed below, and it got me wondering why they were all by French authors, when I read a lot in other languages. I think even if you can read foreign literature fluently, it’s easier to detect & appreciate beautiful prose in your mother tongue, not just because you know it so intimately (so you know how many different ways there are to convey an idea and why this particular way was a great choice in this context), but also because languages develop their own criteria of what constitutes good writing, and we aren’t really taught about this—we're taught about our own language's criteria for good prose as if they were universal and objective, and it can be hard to move beyond that, especially when you're happily lost in a book and not actively trying to analyse the subtleties of the writing.

At the risk of giving the least hipster answer ever I really like Victor Hugo's writing because there are whole passages that sound so good I need to go back and re-read them to figure out what's happening in terms of plot (usually nothing, so it's ok), because I was too busy enjoying the flow of language the first time around (my favourite of his is The Man Who Laughs)

I read Pierre Assouline's 500-page book about the Book of Job even though I have little interest in biblical analysis or religious history, because there were sentences that were so pleasantly paced and balanced I just got carried by the momentum...

I love Annie Ernaux's writing in Les Années even though I'm not a fan of her other books, because the sentence construction and rhythm are so perfectly suited to the theme of the book.

I find Anatole France's books rather dull but the language is hypnotising (I talked a bit in this post about how his grammar is graceful as a dance...)

^ looking at this I realise I always come back to movement—grace, balance, flow, rhythm (not the pace of the story but of each sentence), and I know these are the criteria that French deems Terribly Important. I mentioned at the end of this post how (and why) English tends to be less interested in the motion of language and more in the imagery; in Goodreads reviews by native English speakers, beautiful writing is more likely to be described as ‘vivid’ than melodious. That's not to say English speakers can't appreciate (or prefer!) other kinds of prose, obviously, it's just, in broad strokes, what each language likes to focus on (at the present time.) There's a lot of appreciation in English for the kind of prose that you could easily make a moodboard out of—evoking sensations, colours, atmosphere—while French highly values the kind of prose that you can easily trace out in the air, with your hand rising and falling, tapping the beat, following grammatical twists and turns.

That's just my understanding, but it's something I notice a lot because I like to read French books along with their English translation (and conversely), to see how translators handle a tricky turn of phrase, or what I would have done differently. And it happens time and time again that the English translation lovingly preserves the imagery of a French sentence (even when a metaphor is difficult to translate) while coldly abandoning the rhythm and sound (even when there are easy English equivalents). Meanwhile French translators often completely ignore (or miss out on) subtle sources of mood and imagery because they are too busy picking the words and sentence structure that sound or flow best. It's really quite funny when you start to notice it.

I would have dozens of examples if I actually took the time to note them as I read, but just two recent ones off the top of my head—

French -> English

I'm currently reading Sylvain Tesson's La Panthère des neiges (The Art of Patience: Seeking the Snow Leopard in Tibet in English) (I needed a 'cold’ book during the heatwave...) At one point the author draws a comparison between religious worship and observing wild animals. For an example of what I was saying re: "tracing out sentences in the air", there's the sentence "La prière s'élève, adressée à Dieu." The two halves are 5 syllables - 5 syllables (6-6 if you read it formally.) The last word of the first half is "s'élève" — "rises". The last word of the second half goes down, since it's the end of the sentence. There's a clear rising and falling motion to it, which is also perfectly balanced in terms of syllables / rhythm; it makes a nice symmetric pattern in the air.

Now, the translation aspect—you've got the sentence "A genoux, on espère sans preuve." Then, shortly afterwards: "A l'affût, on connaît ce que l'on attend." The author is comparing the acts of kneeling (to pray) and lying in wait (to watch animals); so he chose phrasings and sentence structures that create a clear symmetry ("A genoux" / "A l'affût", 3 syllables, starting with the same sound, followed by a comma, then “on” + verb + clause.) The English translation? "To kneel is to wait in expectation without proof" [...] "Lying in a hide, the object of the wait is known."

This is bad!

Now the two sentences have different grammatical structures, they don't contain the same pronoun and don’t start with the same sound or phrasing even though the translator could have chosen to write "Kneeling" and "Lying" to preserve a tiny bit of the original intent. The translation obliterates the similarities of sound & rhythm in the grammar and word choice, which were here for a literary purpose—to link and compare two concepts.

On the other hand, every sentence in the book that's ripe with vivid imagery of wild animals is very conscientiously translated. In the next page, Tesson describes yaks as "taches de jais saupoudrant—", the English translator: "[the yaks] appeared as jade smudges scattered—" It's word for word ! The translator clearly thought visually striking phrases are essential and must be preserved as faithfully as possible, but phrases that are striking on an auditory / rhythmical level are less important (or less likely to be appreciated by an English-speaking reader.)

English -> French

I was reading The Bear and the Nightingale last year and I remember a contrast so blatant it made me laugh—the sentence "The ground was thick with snowdrops" in the original, was translated in French as "Le sol était parsemé d'une nuée de perce-neige." (The ground was scattered with a mist of snowdrops.)

In terms of French prose, this is good! In terms of faithful translation of English prose, this is bad! The translator went for the complete opposite when it comes to imagery—"thick" which evokes weight, vs. the weightlessness of "scattered" and “mist.”

But you know what? "Parsemé" and "perce-neige" have the same syllable count and nearly identical consonant sounds— [p]-[sə]-[m] / [p]-[sə]-[n]. It's pleasing to the ear and symmetrical. The “mist” bit might seem unnecessary (you could say “scattered with snowdrops”) but it was added because it contributes to this—rather than having two similar words right next to one another, they are now the last word in the first and second half of the sentence, making each half end on a similar sound, like poetry. The two halves "le sol était parsemé" and "d'une nuée de perce-neige" have 7 syllables each (with a mute e, the way most people would read it.) So the sentence sounds nice and is well-balanced, and what could be more important than musicality and balance?? Surely not imagery.

It's good writing in terms of what French deems important. It's terrible at preserving what the original English deemed important—"thick" associated with snowdrops as if the flowers were an actual blanket of snow—this evokes weight and quiet—the next sentence then opens with the trill of a bird, and the light, airy sound feels all the more vivid thanks to this clear contrast.

Which is obliterated by the French translation. But the French sentence flows nicely, and it really highlights what each language finds beautiful and essential, in terms of prose. I mentioned in this post that one of the reasons French takes up more room as a language is that it loves grammatical redundancy while English hates it—and I think it's because expanding or repeating a grammatical structure can add symmetry and balance, while it dilutes / drowns out the imagery. I don't think translators make an active choice all the time to overlook one aspect of the prose and pay more attention to another—I think as they mentally chew on the original text and try to come up with the best equivalent, they instinctively tend to fall into this pattern of favouring their language’s Good Writing criteria (probably because it’s assumed readers favour them as well.)

I should write these kinds of examples down in some Word doc, because they’re everywhere, and while there are so many writing styles and translation styles in both languages, there really is a pattern here—French being obsessed with balance and assonance, i.e. the beauty of motion & sound (which are twin concepts when it comes to language), how to make the flow of a sentence linger in your mind; English being obsessed with the beauty of imagery, the ways to make it 'pop', how to make an atmosphere linger in your mind.

Sorry for this very long answer that only briefly touched on your question, but I really love to observe the ways people use their languages so similarly yet differently!

[pearlywritings]

A birthday surprise

synopsis: lately the work became a never-ending exhausting routine, throwing everything else out of Childe's head. He is lucky to have you though, always ready to remind him of important things that could possibly escape his attention. Guess what? Today is the case...

pairing: Childe x fem!reader

tw: fluff + smut, established relationship, masturbation, kinda bath sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, mix of praise and degradation, a tiny bit of Sir kink, usage of Childe’s real name

word count: 7.1k+ words

a/n: I am SO late, but I really wanted to finish this fic, espesically since the moment I’ve got a small scene in my head about the Palace after watching the Fatui Harbingers’ trailer. Sorry for this belated present, you, ginger dumbass, and I hope you, whoever read this, will enjoy.

samovár (Rus) - literally means “self-boiler”. A metal container traditionally used to heat and boil water for tea

dédushka (Rus) - grandpa

chertóvka (Rus) - here is “wicked woman”

Finally, this farce of yet another meeting is over. Ever since Signora's death the amount of work increased astronomically and the moments of rest were extremely rare. Orders upon orders, decree after decree and meetings followed with dozens of new ones… The Fatui organization has probably never been this lively and the meeting hall has not been occupied so often.

The palace feels like a freezer compartment, it’s much colder than the outside, sending chills on anyone’s skin even with all those layers of warm clothes, so Childe can’t help but let out a small smile in relief once the grand front doors come into view. The carpet is cracking under his feet like an ice crust, echoing in an empty hallway, with nothing but smooth walls and pillars with occasional tapestries hanging here and there, glorifying Her Majesty Tsaritsa and her trusty group of 11 - well, now 9 - Harbingers. Huh, such pathos within the overall lifelessness of the place, how miserable.

The train of thoughts in his way, only half done, is disturbed by one of the underlings approaching the man. With expressionless face Childe stops in his tracks, letting the guy come closer and bow respectfully. Honestly, he is exhausted right now, wishing for nothing more but to leave this place and go to rest. It's a wonder his shoulders do not drop right now in dull pain.

“What’s the matter? If it is work related, bring it to my office and leave it there. I'll check it tomorrow.”

“I am afraid it is urgent, Sir,” a hand comes into the ginger’s view and a small hint of surprise reflects in his eyes.

“A permission badge? Whose that?”

“That’s the thing, lord Tartaglia, we do not know,” the speaker shivers at the very clear annoyance suddenly radiating from the Harbinger and hurries to correct himself. “B-but, this woman also showed us a paper signed by the Fifth Harbinger, that granted her access up to the second level of palace and authority to ask the low-ranked Fatui soldiers for whatever she may need. She made a request to tell you she’d like to meet you in the palace gardens.”

Right, the gardens. Always covered in snow, yet everlastingly beautiful, this place was the level two in the Zapolyarny Palace structure. But why would Pulcinella grant anyone this kind of permission? Is it some kind of a business partner his curator wants him to meet? Well… was it not for “The Rooster” Tartaglia would’ve dismissed it, but it’s not like he has much of a choice - as much as he respects his superior, his lectures can be waaaay too long and energy-consuming.

“Alright, and where is this mysterious stranger?” The man takes the badge and puts it in an inside pocket of his overcoat.

“The guards led her to the pavilion in the west part, she must be waiting there.”

Childe nods and, after dismissing the guard, turns around to walk back to the exit closest to the said part of the garden.

He wasn’t lying, thinking of the place as beautiful: white marble statues, frozen fountains and snow-covered hedgerows that create an intricate maze, where anyone not accustomed could get lost. The Harbinger doesn’t waste his time on beholding all of its charms, wishing for nothing more but to get over with whatever and come to his residence to write another stack of letters for his family and then catch at least a couple of hours of a so needed sleep.

Ah, at last, the pavilion. He sees two Fatui agents standing outside, guarding the ‘guest’. There is a thin almost translucent ribbon winding from the inside and up into the air - as he gets closer he spots a steaming samovár on the table. Oh, the hospitality, he rolls his eyes, subtly nodding to the two men bowing to him, and putting his foot on the first step of the wooden stairs. 

“Greetings, lord Tartaglia,” the woman decides to start the conversation and Archons does Childe halts in his way. Deep ocean eyes dart up and take in the figure clad in a black fur coat with a hood covering her hair. Hands, holding a teacup and a saucer, are clad in equally black gloves with a very familiar embroidery on the backs of them - he himself brought them from his last visit to the capital and gave them to you.

It is really you, his heart screams in joy, when his eyes connect with the ones he’s missed so much. Your orbs stand out and shine even brighter now that you wear a mask, which hides the top half of your face plus cheeks, offering him a perfect view of your pretty lips, pink from the hot tea you’ve been drinking while waiting for him.

Oh, right, you’ve been out there expecting him, and he almost decided to not meet you back then! No, that absolutely won’t do.

“Dismissed,” guards flinch at the sudden command, but, not daring to disobey or even question one of the Eleven, they bow again and quickly leave the scene. Childe waits a moment, then some more, all the while listening to their retreating steps and not breaking eye contact with you. Once sure it is quiet, the world moves too fast. There is a clink of china and then clicks of the heels on the wooden floor - those are the only sounds the man hears before he practically runs up the stairs and catches your body in a tight embrace and instantly hoists you up. He relishes in a soft squeal, twirling around with you in his arms, having an almost iron grip under your backside to not drop you.

“Love, put me down!” you demand in a hushed voice. Oh, your voice. Columbina may be the most magnificent singer of Snezhnaya - but the way you sound is better than everything capable of producing the most exquisite noises in the whole land of Teyvat. It caresses his ears so tenderly, he wants to hear more, he missed you so much - missed your scent, your caresses, your words, reserved only for him, your mere presence...How can you ask him to let you go? Surely you are not that cruel.

“Childe, seriously! What if someone sees! And after all the work I put into coming here unrecognized for you and your job’s sake!”

You are so cute when you scold him, and the lovesick smile he gives you instead of putting you back on your feet, only fuels you more. Maybe if he kisses you, you’ll be more-

“Tartaglia, no, no kisses, NO,” ah, you know him too well - one of the reasons he loves you. But he can’t love you without being a little shit, can he?

“I will grant your wish only in exchange for a kiss,” he turns his face a little, presenting you his cheek, prettily rosy from cold. A sigh leaves your lips - he’ll make sure to kiss them again and again in private - and eventually you land a quick peck to his skin.

“Will that suffice?”

“For now it will,” he grins, finally settling you down, but not yet releasing your waist from his firm but careful grip. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were visiting mama and papa. Did something happen? How did you even,” he brings one hand away and into his inside pocket, fishing the badge out and showing it to you, “get Pulcinella sign all this stuff?”

“Wow, wow, easy there, gingerhead,” you tease him and snatch the metal token, pocketing it. “One question at a time. If it is allowed, could we take a walk? Honestly, even with a hot tea it’s freezing to just sit. That is if you have time of course.”

“Do not worry, for you I do. So,” he draws his hands back and motions to the outside of the wooden construction, “let’s head out then. We’ll pretend you are just some business partner, deal?”

“Oh my, such a quick shift in behavior,” you tease again, stepping out and back on a scrunchy snow. “That’s what I call a professional.”

Your lover only smiles, restraining himself from taking your hand or wrapping an arm around your waist, even though he really really wants to.

As you are slowly strolling through the big maze, you answer all his questions. First of all you tell him all the latest news from home, reassuring that everyone is fine, but very sad he can’t make it this month. Actually, that’s half of the reason you arrived in the first place. How did you manage? Well, the last time Pulcinella visited to pass some gifts and goodies to his younger siblings, you were there, watching over them, and while kids were busy looking through all the stuff the “kind dédushka* P” brought them, you two got into conversation. The Fifth Harbinger is aware of the relationship his mentee and you have and, being quite different from his colleagues, he doesn’t believe relationships between people to be a distraction. Especially in this case, when Tartaglia is clearly motivated whenever you come into picture, determined to improve and progress. Archons, the elderly man already considers you Ajax’s fiancee (the ginger is at fault, but none of you actually mind, being quite sure that eventually it’ll be the case).

So, with your concern of seeing your lover rarely expressed and weighing all the risks and benefits from an upcoming decision, Pulcinella laughed and said: “You are a good young lady, and I know how smart you are. Don’t see a problem of granting some privileges to Tartaglia’s future wife.” And then a couple of days later you received all the papers and the badge, accompanied with a Fatui designed mask for you to use.

“Exactly his words?” The man muses and reaches to unbutton his overcoat and loosen his scarf a little. You give him a stinky eye, letting your act waiver a bit to slap his hand away.

“Yes, exactly his words. I know the things your superior is capable of and I am so glad he developed a soft spot for us.”

“How could he not?” Childe gives it another try, but you once again force his hand away. “Especially when you are such a kind and caring soul. And the way you tend to my younger siblings? Everyone who ever catches even a glimpse of it will have their hearts stolen,” just to humor himself he lifts the hand to his buttons again, only to watch you giving him a ‘seriously?’ kind of look. He chuckles, raising both hands in surrender.

“Childe, you are such a child sometimes”, you shake your head, stopping when the pavilion comes into view once again. Looks like you made a round somehow. “Do you really want to catch a cold right on your birthday?”

Your lover stops immediately. By his widened eyes and a dumbfounded expression it becomes clear to you - he forgot.

“My what?”

“Your birthday. This is probably the main reason I am here. When you sent that last letter and wrote there you wouldn’t be coming for a while, everyone understood, but still were very upset, especially poor Teucer. I didn’t want him to pull the same stunt he did with his travel to Liyue - and the capital is much closer to Morepesok, - so I talked to your parents and we agreed on me coming to see you and bringing you all the gifts, cards and words of congratulation. I must admit, it was hard to calm your youngest brother down and explain why I can’t take him with me to the toy factory, but I managed, eventually.”

You give your lover a moment to process the information. You can practically imagine the gears moving inside his head, tearing the cobwebs of tiredness and leading all his thoughts to the realization.

“It’s today. Today is my birthday,” Childe looks blankly at the snow at his feet. A moment later it’s almost like he snaps out of a haze.

“Oh Tsaritsa, I forgot.”

“I figured,” you chuckle, taking a step closer and cupping his cheek. “But that’s alright, love.”

“It is?” the look he gives you almost makes your heart clench. “I always make sure to come home to celebrate with everyone!”

“They know, and they understand. They only wish for you to be well, and I can assure you - while I am here, I will look after you and your health. Want me to swear with a pinkie promise?” the teasing lilt in your voice returns a smile to his face.

“No,” a big palm envelopes yours and he turns his face to plant a kiss on the inside of it, “no need, I believe you without any vow. Thank you for coming, I truly appreciate that.”

The softness that reflects in the depth of his orbs brings a similar one to your face.

“Of course, everything for my dear Ajax,” his name leaves your lips in a hushed manner, but even barely audible it sends a fluttering sensation straight to his heart. He can’t conceal his affection any longer, he needs you in private.

“Where did you stop?”

“Oh, the hotel “Imperial”. I thought it wouldn’t be suspicious if lord Harbinger visited something this luxurious.”

“Forget it. Leave me the room number, I’ll send someone to fetch your things and bring them to my residence.”

“Wait, your residence? Wouldn’t this be alarming? I mean you, bringing someone random over?” he can feel your concern, he sees the doubt in your eyes, a smile fading a little, and he almost wants to tease you for having so little faith in him. Though he decides against it.

“My people are trained well, they wouldn’t even think of questioning anything,” a reassuring squeeze of your hand gives you only a small bit of comfort.

“Either way, shouldn’t we exit separately? Playing safe and all that stuff?”

“Come on, at least three people already know I am meeting someone. Besides, you are my new business partner, remember? Pulcinella’s permit isn’t offered to every other person, no one would ask you questions once you show them the signature. Now come on!” he tugs on the hand he’s been holding this whole time, setting you in motion and then letting go of it. “Let’s get going before it starts getting dark.”

Hours later the warm water envelopes your body, making it pleasantly tingle after the time spent out there in the cold. Strong scarred arm loosely rests around your middle, the very tips of the fingers gently tickle under your ribs. The man behind you is humming something contently, keeping the other arm on the edge of a huge tub, with yours laying on top of it, fingers intertwined. Just this simple moment of peace reduces the exhaustion in his system to a minimum, and Ajax gratefully presses kisses along your shoulder - a very markless shoulder.

“I know what you are thinking about…” your voice is so relaxed, and body goes limp against his. Your free hand comes to rest on his bent knee before you continue, “but I don’t want to put a strain on your body.”

“A strain on my body?” he huffs. “You know how strong I am, and I am getting stronger every day. Unless you don’t want to?”

Your gazes connect again and you feel an arm on your waist shift. The little shit knows you are in no mood to scold him right now, getting too much pleasure in having a bath with him.

“I wouldn’t say I don’t, it’s just… My things will be here only in the morning, and that new lingerie I bought specifically for you will go to waste.”

"Don't say that," a kiss to your cheek and a squeeze on your hip. "You can wear it for me tomorrow. Today I am way too tired to unwrap a gift," at his dramatic sigh you give his knee a small slap, making him grin widely. "What? Given the conditions of never-ending work without a glimpse of finish ahead of us, your arrival is the best gift I could've asked for on my birthday - which I forgot about. But you not only reminded me of it, but became the most splendid part of it."

"Glad to hear that, Ajax. On the other hand you are right - maybe I should leave this new set for later, wouldn't want you to tear it right away."

"Love, I can't help it! You are perfect and I am no commander of my desire for you." 

You laugh at it and he joins you in the merry sound, nuzzling the side of your head with his nose, inhaling the sweet aroma clinging to your skin. Finally having you this close with no one to interrupt makes it painfully obvious how much he actually missed you, even if he didn’t give this yearning much thought. Now, when it registers in every little nerve of his body, Childe grows restless. It feels like fire ignites in his bones (despite him being a Hydro user) when he glances at your face and then down the rest of your body hidden under the water. He could manipulate the density of it to caress you and set the mood, but the urge to feel you directly overpowers the initial idea.

“Babe?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I touch you?”

“Oh? Aren’t you touching me already?” you shake your linked hands and then point at the one resting on your hip. Your lover blows hot air against your ear, making you giggle and press it to your shoulder.

“Stoooop!”

“Haha, sorry, sorry,” nope, the wide grin he hides behind your hair speaks of how not sorry he, in fact, is. “But you know what I mean. Can I touch you more intimately? Consider it a present for the Birthday Boy?”

You glance back at him, witnessing an oh-so-familiar begging look in his eyes, which you know is absolutely faux. However he is right - you can’t just leave him without a gift today, the ones arriving tomorrow, well, they will be tomorrow.

Once you give him a firm nod, that pleading expression disappears as if by a spell, turning it into a look of excitement and hunger. His head dips down, while yours tilts back out of habit and it's too late when you realize your mistake - hot wet kisses are placed all over your throat. A blissful sigh passes your lips, but doesn't stray too far before a strangled moan chases it. A finger found its way between your spread legs and is now lazely toying with your clit while kisses turn into nipping and sucking, littering your skin with lovebites.

"A…jax…" you whimper, arching your back and squeezing his hand still resting on the edge of the tub.

"Yes, baby… moan my name with that lovely voice of yours…" he now uses two fingers to stroke your slit to test your wetness. Your shoulder is next to fall victim to his attack, getting more and more marks with every passing second. You don't make any attempts to stop him, only writhing in his arms so needily, legs trembling in attempts to stay open and tits bouncing with every jolt of pleasure that passes through your body.

"You are so responsive to my touch," he starts rubbing your clit in tight quick circles, making your thighs shake with each pass over your bundle of nerves, relishing in your cries. "I've neglected you for a long time, yeah? I am sorry, princess, I'll make sure to fix it, just cum for me one time."

The lewd words practically groaned into your ear make your walls squeeze around nothing and you cry in frustration. You hate how fast this man could shift the mood from relaxed to horny and reduce you to a moaning mess, controlling your desire for him and playing you like some kind of a musical instrument. You need to get out of this bath, this position, this hold to get an upper hand, but right now you can only pathetically squeeze his fingers and knee, splashing the water with how much you move around.

"A-jax, let's go to- mhaaah! The bedroom!"

"Come on, Y/N," he bites the shell of your ear, pinching your bundle and making you squeal, "I feel your pretty little clit twitching. Give me one nice release and we'll continue in the bedroom, I promise."

You start grinding on his fingers, faster and faster, letting go of his his knee and grabbing the other edge of the tub to ground yourself. Childe shifts behind you, sitting straighter and sliding your body a bit lower to be able to have a better view of everything. He is drinking in the sight of your tightly shut eyes, parted lips, producing the most melodic sounds, neck and shoulder with red little roses blooming on your skin, hardened nipples, poking from under the water and then disappearing beneath whenever you rock and arch your body, soft mounds of your breasts that make his mouth water and the pulsating heat between your legs he mercilessly stimulates.

“I’m close!” Yes, he can sense it, applying even more pressure on your clit, pulling the tightly knotted string in your stomach until it snaps and your thighs clamp around his hand. You throw your head back against his chest, arching and spasming, mewling his name in a blissed out voice. Childe, being a good (even though often unfair) lover, helps you ride your orgasm out, pressing his lips to your forehead and gently caressing your hand with his thumb.

“You’ve done so well, princess. My sweet slutty girl, moaning like this just from my fingers,” ever the master of both praise and degradation he eases you up, slowly retrieving his hand and resting it on your stomach, rubbing it in soothing circles.

“What was that for??” still trembling you are trying to catch your breath, processing that it’s been the first time in a couple of months when your lover has touched you this way. Your own hands are never enough ever since you learned the pleasure he can provide, so, even if you are slightly mad at him for a sudden attack on your mentally unprepared self, the satisfaction overshadows it.

“Come on, babe, you gave me permission,” argh, that eat-shitting grin of his. “Don’t remember you specifying anything.”

Damn, he’s right. Well, you mentally shrug your shoulders, doesn’t matter, this orgasm was amazing.

“Besides…” he catches the lock of your dump hair, curling it on his index finger. ”It’s been years ever since I’ve gotten my position and this residence, and neither this bath nor the bedrom has ever been dirtied by sex. Now we fixed it, it almost feels the same as back home. Let’s proceed to the bedroom now!”

And that’s his proving point!? Un-fucking-believable.

The short-lived shock dissipates once you are in the said bedroom. You do not even have time to take a better look at anything, as Childe is kissing you like a man starved, groping you whenever his hands can reach and leading you straight to the king-sized bed you’ve managed to catch a glimpse of on the way to the bathroom.

“Sooo,” the ginger - who no longer looks like he hasn’t slept for days, running on caffeine only - stretches the syllable, and you know, something is coming, “does Birthday Boy get a blowjob from his loving girlfriend?”

Ah, there it is.

“Seems like this loving girlfriend’s Birthday Boy is too demanding and greedy,” you send him a challenging look, to which his grin only gets wider, baring the perfectly white teeth. Wants to play a predator? Fine, you’ll prove to him once again that he is not the only one who can be in control. It’s your turn now.

“Well,” hands plaster on his chest, feeling the muscle he’s been working day and night to develop, and then slowly and sensually slide all the way to the shoulders, “I can’t really say no, right?” with a firm press you get him where you want him - sitting on the edge of the bed. “Fulfilling wishes is a part of celebration after all. Spread your legs, handsome.”

Of course he is making a scene out of it, putting one hand behind on the bed to support himself and then wrapping the other one around his half-hard dick. He is slowly stroking himself, as his legs slide open, making enough room for you to kneel on the floor.

“I bet you are thirsting for it, aren’t you, princess?” The sweet teasing man disappeared with tiredness having been moved to the background. His natural confidence blends with obtained arrogance, which lifts its head and shows a fanged mouth. Is it going to intimidate you? Not anymore, as you know all his sensitive spots. You swear, soon he’ll be begging you like crazy to not stop your ministrations.

“I bet you are thirsting for my mouth,” retorting back only earns you a deep chuckle. Getting on your knees and situating your palms on his thighs though gives you a twitch of his length. Oh, how cute.

“Well, lord Harbinger,” you slap his hand, making him release the almost hard cock, “let’s see how tough you are.”

“Haha, amuse m- gh!”

The man squeezes the comforter with his support hand, fisting and wrinkling the smooth material. You smirk cheekily, running just the tip of your tongue along his slit again and he gasps, a beautiful shuddering inhale taken. Just to be sure you lick again and then start trailing butterfly kisses down the downside of the length, only to harshly suck on the base, making your lover choke on his own breath. Childe couldn't live without some pain in his life and you, being a ‘loving girlfriend’, do not mind to provide.

"What is it, oh mighty warrior? Cat got your tongue?" You roll out your own, dragging it all the way from the base back up to the head, stimulating every bulging vein, flexing the wet muscle so it would apply some pressure with the tip. Not really caring for his answer you blow chilly air on slickened flesh and with satisfaction see how it twitches, releasing pearly bids of precum. Fingers squeeze on his thighs when you feel his hand finding its way on top of your head. But before he can regain some composure and start commanding you around, you take the flushed head between your lips, sucking, working your tongue around at the same time. Another choked gasp which already sounds close to a strangled moan and you can't help but glance up at him.

Oh, Tsaritsa, your boyfriend is a sight to behold. Eyelids lowered, giving you just a small glimpse of his ocean eyes; cheeks are adorably red, beautifully looking close to his ginger locks; lips parted just slightly, even though you see his lower lip a bit swollen - probably bit it in an attempt to collect himself. Chest is rising and falling, and the sight of his well-defined pectorals moving makes you purr, sending the vibrations straight to his cock and making the man slightly arch his back.

Hm, usually he is more in charge and less receptive just to annoy you when you blow him, but maybe the lack of sex for a long period of time is the case, and he simply hasn't gotten used to the tricks you play on his body whenever your skilled mouth is included.

Well, all better for you.

You are sucking and bobbing your head, taking not much of him - concentrating on his favorite spots around the tip - and making some use of your hands. Oh how much he loves when you pair sucking him off with dragging your nails on his abdomen or inner thighs, almost scratching him. These bits of almost tangible pain make his cock leak harder, feeling your mouth with a bitter taste. Often you leave angry red lines behind, sometimes not enough to draw blood, other times drawing just a little, sending your man into a frenzy.

Today is not the latter case, as you are not trying to overstimulate Ajax, only excite him more than necessary. And by the way he tilts his head back, heavily panting, the tight grip in your hair and legs crossing behind your body, with heels digging into your lower back, you have all the indicators he is close.

And you pull away completely.

Childe's head snaps back upright almost immediately, eyes blown wide and staring at you, at your shiny with spit and his precum lips, at the slow manner of your thumb dragging over them, cleaning the mess of fluids. He can feel the same mess running down the underside of his dick, small globs pulling at his balls and dripping down on the floor.

"W-why did you stop?" He tries to not sound whiny, though a small hint slithers its way into his tone. You give him the most charming smile you're capable of, letting go of his thighs and grabbing his knees, forcing his legs to uncross and return to the position they were in the very beginning.

"Because it's time for the present~ You've had just enough of the birthday cake, we wouldn't want you to be too full, overwise you'd have to leave it for tomorrow."

With these words you get back on your feet, admiring your work from a new angle. A masterpiece as always.

"But sitting like that won't be all that comfortable… why don't you sit closer to the headboard, hm?" Your fingertips graze his flushed cheek, gently following the contour of his jaw and the man nods with a small gulp. How cute. Just a couple of minutes ago he was looking at you arrogantly, thinking he was going to be in charge of his own pleasure, and now one of the Harbingers is gazing up at you with figurative hearts and stars in his eyes, eager for your every move and word.

Not ten seconds later he is already lying against the pillows put against the wooden surface and you are climbing on top of him, claiming his hips like you belong there.

And you do.

The moment your crotches are close his hands find their place on your hips, kneading the flesh.

"Impatient, are we?" He only huffs at your teasing remark, growing more agitated when you do not put his cock right inside of your warm and tight pussy but start grinding it all over his length, smearing the wet mess all over his lower stomach.

"You… chertóvka*!" His words are meant to bite, yet you find them highly amusing, coming from a man of his state. Such a pity that a couple of days more and he'll take a hold of things again, making you regret everything you've done to rile him up by repeatedly fucking you into this grand bed. Or maybe not only the bed, this residence is huge after all.

Finally Childe thinks when you line his cock with your hole and begin sinking down. Oh Archons his mind screams when your tight walls wrap around his manhood. Your mouth already was a mercy to his sinful body and soul, but your sweet, eagerly sucking him in pussy must be a blessing. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, choking a suppressed whine out of you, and it takes all of his willpower to not just thrust into your heat - he’ll leave it for later, once you get used to his girth and length again, ready to get demolished.

The room is filled with heavy breathing and your quiet moans as you grind and bounce a little to loosen up and accept more of him inside. Your lover praises you in a hushed voice, reaching his thumb to rub your clit.

“M-maybe I should’ve used the lube,” you gasp, taking an inch more, walls fluttering around the rest that is already nestled inside. His caresses help you relax but it's been so many months since the last time…

“You are doing amazing, I promise” the man assures you, circling your bundle of nerves faster. “It’s just a few more inches, you got this, just please don’t stop completely.”

It may be the desperate edge in his words, or the pulsing flesh inside of you, pushing thick veins against your sensitive walls, but you grit your teeth, fist your hand on his hard stomach, and let your pussy swallow the final inches in one go. 

A broken moan tumbles from your lips, a choked noise escapes from the depths of his chest. 

Your head hangs low, while his is thrown back, eyes tightly shut.

Sweat is beading and running down the back of your neck, while on him it gathers between furrowed brows.

You can't stop slightly shaking from how full you are, he can hardly keep his legs pressed to bed, to not have the temptation of planting his feet firmly on the mattress to draw his hips down and back up, giving you both what you've been craving.

A minute passes, then one more. You slowly catch your breaths and get adjusted to each other. Staying connected like this shows just how long it has been since the last time you two were together.

The gingerhead is the first to come back to his senses, gliding his wide palms over your hips and sliding them right to your ass, cupping each cheek and starting to carefully grind you on top of him. Oh, what a delicious whine he hears and an excited glint in your eyes he witnesses. Carefully rocking your hips, you grab the headboard for leverage, testing the waters and your all once again found limits. It won't take long to push the maximum line further, but for now you have to be cautious, and Ajax understands that, watching all of the reactions attentively.

At some point your gazes link and you give him a smile, which he happily returns, reaching out for your cheek. Getting the hint you bend, capturing his lips in a kiss, deepening it right away. Soon you are devouring each other's mouths, creating a dirty melody of wet sounds and hungry noises, with all these battling your tongues are doing.

You feel how he is getting turned on, pent up energy evident in how frantically he pushes his hand from your cheek to hold the back of your head - leaving you no opportunity to stop this wild making out session. It's so wet already, slick is coating his cock, which starts sliding in and out more easily, but still firmly pressing against your tight walls, molding you into the shape of him.

Childe moans when you bite on his lower lip and suddenly lift your hips almost halfway up his dick, only to drop yourself back down on it. You repeat the motion, not forgetting to squeeze around him, and Ajax's fingers grip harder on your hair.

"You little-" he groans at the feeling of your nails scraping against his abdomen. Fuck, he forgot your hands have been pretty much not occupied since the moment you released the headboard to kiss him. Oh no, you better use them to hold tight onto him for what he is going to do next.

You jolt and half yelp half moan from a thrust his dick makes when he forces his body into a sitting position. There is a hand still squeezing your asscheek, the other lets go of your hair and is now fondling with your breast, squeezing the soft mound.

"Come on, ride your birthday man, love," and with that his mouth latches on your second tit. His plan works perfectly, as there are instantly hands gripping on his shoulder and hair. Childe pays it absolutely no mind, sucking on your hardened nipple and thumbing the other one. He leaves marks all over your pretty breasts the next moment and you are not left with much choice but to moan and whine while bouncing on his dick, trying to set the pace, which, with the distraction your lover is making, proves to be quite a task.

"Ajax," you try to beg, combing through his hair, though your fingers flex into a grip involuntarily whenever he stimulates the bud too harshly or the head of his cock nudges that spot inside of you, "please, c-calm down a little, I can't concentrate…"

The only answer you get is a mischievous glance from him and his mouth being full of your breast. Oh, and also that thrust he makes that almost forces you forward on top of him.

Childe hums, not missing how the vibration against your mound sends goosebumps all over your skin, and releases the less abused tit, grabbing your other buttock.

"Huh, you are so sloppy," he muses, flexing his arms and making the taut muscles bulge under his pale scarred skin. "Leaving all the work for me to do, while it is my celebration…But I am a merciful man, so hold still."

And that's the only warning you get before he starts fucking into you with a faster pace and steady rhythm, getting a bit fed up with how slowly everything was. He loves it when you are clawing at his back, moaning and screaming in his ear and at the back of his mind he thinks that it's such a pity he let all of his staff go, the fucker would love to have at least ears directed to his performance.

Which has you a slutty mess in a spawn of seconds, pussy squelching with wetness, walls contracting around his pulsating cock, gripping it deliciously and…

"Your pussy is so eager to milk me out of my cum, love," he practically purrs in your shoulder, giving you another bite. Fuck, you moan louder, holding onto his back for dear life, his dominant side is showing sooner when you anticipated. "I bet you want every last drop of it. I'll give it to you, but you have to promise you won't spill a bit."

The pleasure is so intense, you have no desire to fight him for control, too horny to care who is in charge. Your brain screams at you to respond, knowing all too well that Ajax is unfair, he can stop if you take too long, and it’ll be such an awful disturbance. You feverishly nod, trying to move too, to meet his thrusting, but the snapping of his hips is so unruled, you do not manage.

"Words, princess, I need words," the commanding tone makes you look into his eyes and you almost cum on the spot, reading the look of adoration twisted by hunger in his eyes of raging waves in a storm. You need a moment to collect your thoughts, but a palm, slapping your buttock, makes it quicker, prompting you to respond hastily.

"Y-yes, I want your cum! Please give it to me!"

"Aren't you forgetting something? That teeny-tiny word, hm?" The hand is squeezing your flesh in a warning, but you needn’t any reminder - the sting is still present.

"Please, Sir,” it goes straight to his dick and Childe groans, bucking his hips involuntarily, ruining the pace. A simple word he is called every day is but a mere reminder of his higher position, not once making his cock jump against its confines, but leaving your mouth… Never ceases to arouse him.

"What a good girl," he praises and brings your body even flusher to his own, chasing both of your releases, letting you shout wantonly into the sex-smelling air, hiding his own noises of pleasure in the crook of your neck.

When the high is about to hit him, Childe registers two hands grasping his head and forcing him to look up, and then there is a slobbery kiss right when your pussy constricts and you cum hard.

The last thing the man becomes aware of is his back hitting the mattress, your body falling on top, lips following lips and his seed shooting deep into your tight heat. Then everything turns white.

Orgasm continues to roll through you, as you grind and whine, feeling the warmth spreading inside and wild shudder running down your back.

“F-fuck…” a whimper against his swollen lips, but yours are no better. There is barely any strength to lift a finger, so you let your forehead bump into his chin, head heavy and thoughts all over the place. Eyes refuse to stay focused and eyelids slide shut. Palms are still holding his face. Hands are still cupping your ass. Your bodies refuse to let go of each other, staying impossibly close to share a heartbeat, to share one afterglow. 

Time hardly matters, thus you both have no idea for how long you have been lying like this. The ginger opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. He thinks he saw a beautiful dream, not having ever dared to wish for this to happen, but everything is real: this bedroom is real, this bed is real, the smell of desire and sweat is real, the heat is real, he is real, you are so damn real…

There is a slight movement and instead of his chin the lips are touching your forehead, just enough to power you up to lift your head and meet his softer and much calmer gaze.

“Hey,” you sweetly murmur, running your fingertips over his cheekbone.

“Hi,” his hands now rest on your waist and a voice is so sexily hoarse. “That was mind-blowing, beautiful.”

“I know, right?” a smile tugs on your lips and Childe’s heart flutters, something that it does only around his dear ones.

“I missed this. I missed you,” now your heart skips a beat at his confession and your palms frame his face in a gentle hold.

“This is one hundred percent mutual, Ajax.”

“Y/N…”

“I am happy you loved the present. Even included me in your fun, which, now that I think of it, probably cost me an ability to walk tomorrow.”

A joyful laugh brushes your hair and one hand lifts to bury in the tangled strands, eliciting a purr out of you.

“That’s amazing, actually. You’ll spend the day in bed while I am away at work, and when I return you’ll be well-rested to continue. We have a lot to catch on after all.” 

Humming against the skin of his neck, you gently nibble here and there, giving him small hickies. It doesn’t sound that bad, as long as no one disturbs you and you get the whole place all to yourself.

But it is to be discussed later. Somewhere in the residence a grandfather clock struck eleven - you still have a whole hour of today. Awesome, as you almost forgot to tell him the most essential thing.

“Happy birthday, Ajax. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Thanks for being mine.”

[du-buk]

8:11 Questions+Answers Pt.2

Got behind again:,D Thank you all for the questions and support though! I hope these don’t disappoint!💙✨✨✨🦭

General Characters Asks;

I’m SOOOO behind on these asks, I apologize to you anons😭💙 But thank you so so much 2nd anon! I love rambly asks, so no worries💙 Thank you for supporting BOTH versions of the game, and liking it! I am honored and I hope you enjoy the sequel; and Gabriel’s next upcoming content then! Thanks again!

For anon 1; hahahaha, I love that! What a cool dream......... I would love to try making such a thing in real life...... but no idea how to structure jokes into four-panels......

But it would be really cool! Newpaper comics and the like were some of my biggest drawing inspirations as a young kid. It would be so nice to give it a go:)

I’ve thought about it, and, sadly no 💔 I’m incredibly busy, especially as of late due to family tragedy, and my health makes it hard to be online all the time.

I’m a mod for one discord server my friends made, and, I do a terrible job at being a mod. I’m never online and just don’t check in with servers, sorry! But I can always happily promote a fan one👍✨

Hmmm......

There’s a small linkage to this. To be honest there was an grand, but old concept for this; but I might drop it as it doesn’t really impact the story in a positive way (as I see it). Or maybe I’ll continue with this, and see what I can do with it in the future.....! Maybe I’ll surprise myself, hahaha. Let’s find out!

But in general it was used before to signify angels, or death’s presence. I don’t know if I like this as I didn’t really use it for every angel in chapter one. For fun, this is what the map looks like when Gabriel and Vittorino talk and the static occurs. The Basilica walls change, and some angels appear.

Hmmm..... oh boy. I think there were a few changes, so I will attempt to remember, but I believe I changed;

Gabriel’s co worker plot line: Meh. It’s a good excuse for him to get to the Basilica. But it’s not so heavily talked about anymore. She is most likely just dead, or missing, and Gabriel can now use Vittorino to help regain his memories. Gabriel’s past overall has done a lot of last minute changes; I think all for the best.

Gabriel’s age: I made him younger. Just to look more helpless and you feel sorry for the guy.

Vittorino and Gabriel dialogue; Vittorino is meant to be ambiguously-taken by the audience when he meets Gabriel. You can decide to trust him, or not.

Accardi and Vittorino’s dialogue in Act 3: I believe I changed some things when they talk about Dante. The old version, I believe, there were indications that Accardi knew who Dante was? He still does for the updated full game, but, now with V2 he claims he can’t remember specifically just Dante’s appearance/face. Lots of face imagery here hahaha

Lots of little details I believe; like what notes Ryker found and such.

The static noise. Also is the reason why in the demo; Leon told Ryker to ignore the static noises; and why it’s not in the full game now. I really just didn’t care for that concept, and wish to use something better.

In the future, if given the chance; I would like to re-make the town and the townspeople. In general just change NPC outfits, way of speech, beliefs, etc. to really give the town a stranger feeling and making the player feel so out of place.

Hmmm..... sometimes I throw an intentional curve ball. Sometimes I don’t give a yes or a no to not spoil the future fun.  And yet, I have also deleted some asks that said too much. I try to delete outdated asks but I’m also just..... not online much and forget to go through my archive, hahaha^^;

Off the top of my head; nothing was spoilered in my answers, but, a lot of people ask me about “how will X character react to Accardi being outed as a cannibal?”

Well.... I’ve already decided to change someone’s reaction. I think this will be fun to write dialogue for, when I’m at that scene, hehe.

To give an idea; 8:11 is has been fully written for years now. But, it’s been a struggle to create a game with my health, busy schedule, etc. as a one-man-team. So, sometimes bits and pieces of the story, or characters, change over time like I do. New things inspire me, challenge me, etc. and I like to implement it in my stories. So far, the ideas and sets I’ve made for 8:11′s sequel overall make me extremely proud, and I hope to show it sometime in the near future when completed. 💙👍💙🦭💙

Hmmmm...... only recently! As a challenge I wish to find voices in the same language characters grew up speaking (i.e, Ryker = French, Gabriel = Italian, etc.) My girlfriend actually pointed out a really nice headcanon voice someone had for Ryker, which is this video;

I’ve shared before that I think Leon sounds like this, but, other than these two, I have no ideas yet on voice claims.

Hmmm...... I don’t know much about instruments, so, I might leave it up for fans to think about, hahahah^^;

I like to think Juliek was forced by his parents to learn violin or something; but he didn’t care for it. So he doesn’t pressure Amalia to pick up instruments if she doesn’t want to. But he loves to hear Accardi play. Maybe Susan knows how to play as well? Maybe instrument-playing is reserved for more upper class people in this world, as it sounds with above hahahaha.

Hahahaha, weeeeell...... ummm.... [weapons/guns talk below warning]

Sorry for a disappointing answer anon, but, I just like arrows! They are often in my dreams, and fun to draw, so it’s common to just see in my artwork and stories hahahaha. I’ve had practice with shooting arrows and guns; and just like them. So I like to draw characters with weapons. Nothing much to it for 8:11′s story(symbolism wise); but maybe for future stories of mine.

Yep! But I cannot say who ;) But I find the secret couples cute

I’m glad you like them anon, thank you!!

After playing Pathologic, and re-watching Twin Peaks, I really wish I developed Dakota and Wankou more. Side characters can be so fun to talk to and interact with. I hope in the future to develop them more 💙💙💙

Yep! Go ahead anon, please help yourself to any of the ADULT characters! Have fun!

Ryker asks;

Are you referring to this?⬇️

Then yes! My dear best friend @jirachi​ made that for me, in support of the game! I actually have it up on my wall, next to my work station 💙😭 So everyone say thank you to her! And since time is played around with in the Basilica, like loose strings, I figured it fit best there:)

He would, if you’re Ryker. If not, but you can see him, he might be alarmed (”why are you able to see someone else’s guardian angel?” he’s thinking) but if you are friendly......he can hug you. He would be so warm, yet probably smell like soil.

They certainly smell bad. They were going to take a bath in act 3, but then found Beetle in the tub instead.

Hi anon! Well.....

It wasn’t my intention, but, if you see fit; then who am I to stop you? Ryker wasn’t written with anything like that, but in general if I write a character with something; I will state it in text. (Which is why there’s so much talk about depression and anxiety disorders hahah)

Leon asks;

Hello anons! He technically had someone he was very close with, but, NOT in a romantic sense. Just a friendly way.

I’ve never written a love interest for Leon, sadly. If you want him though, you can have him. Just be gentle....

He also has no canon last name, so, you can give him yours. 👍💙💙💙

Hahaha, surprised (but glad) to hear! I didn’t think Francis would gather any fans until chapter two. Here’s some fun facts;

He was a morning person until the incident

He enjoys □ □ □ 

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Yes! Francis is just spoken with in a non-human form, so, it can be tricky to tell.

Accardi+Juliek asks;

He probably had to drag them around, got dizzy, and threw up on them. What’s a few more bruises to Ryker when they’re covered in them, hahahaha.

Hannibal, definitely. Your mom is very right👍 I love Mads Mikkelsen’s portrayal of him. Other than Hannibal, Accardi was inspired by other characters like Koito from Golden Kamuy and Westley from the Princess and the Bride.

Are you referring to his pixel sprites? It honestly might have been a mistake, as, pixel art hurts my eyes 😭 I think 8:11 will be the last game I make with pixel art, as, the little details are too difficult for me to keep up with. My bad!

Hello! Yes, I confirmed it over on Twitter a while back I believe. But don’t be fooled........it’s not a long history between them, and anything about them will just be implied. Juliek just likes to fuck.

Uh, no clue, sorry anon. He’s just always had that.

Remember when Accardi told Ryker he gave stitches to Vittorino once? When he bumped his head on a table? Maybe Accardi had to do something similar with Juliek after a crazy night with the boys..... who knows....

Vittorino+Gabriel+Dante asks; 

There’s no cure. We’re just going to have to put you down. Sorry.

He would chase you with an axe.

I don’t mind! I’ve never really thought about it myself.... but I don’t mind it, hahaha. Chapter two might be a wild ride though if you do ship them ;P

Dante enjoyed hunting as it relieved stress, and a way to escape from the madness at the Basilica for a moment. Though, he was never taught proper gun safety (no surprise).

🔞🔞🔞🔞Asks;

....Or in the past, possibly. I doubt Gabriel would want to do anything in a sewage area.

Hello! I am, thank you for asking! You’re free to draw whatever you want, I don’t care.

You might have to ask off anon. I don’t know exactly how to send these images, as, I don’t want to upload them on my archives 😭Just a heads up, I don’t think anything other than bare chests are shown so don’t get any hopes up👍I believe for the priest zine I only drew Leon and Vittorino.

LOOOL yeah okay, pretty funny. But we will have to see, hahha. I don’t really draw NSFW images but I can try my best.

Well.... in honor of Noda, the author behind Golden Kamuy ranking  sizes.....sure. I will do that too 👍✨

Wankou (the biggest)

Dakota

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